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The Hex Files, Harry/Draco Career Fair
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2009-11-05
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2009-12-06
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Normal Does It

Summary:

On his deathbed, Lucius gives Draco an almost impossible task that will hopefully salvage the reputation of the Malfoy family. Draco finds himself in need of a magical ship called the Wave-Sweeper, but finds one Harry Potter standing in his way. This "new" Harry Potter, with his strange obsession to be "normal", assigns himself the task of being Draco's watchdog. Together, with a motley crew of Hogwarts alumni, they fly both sea and air following an ancient map that leads them to an unknown island and strange creatures, but both Harry and Draco are harbouring secrets that threaten the tenuous relationship that grows between them.

Notes:

Note from SeparatriX, the archivist: this story was originally archived at The Hex Files, which was closed for financial and health reasons. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2016. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on The Hex Files collection profile.

Chapter 1: Part One

Chapter Text

A/N: Written for the 2009 hd_career_fair. A big thank you to bk7brokemybrain,thesamanthahope, tari_sue, and empress_jae for all their hard work! And the fabulous art work is by cydienne! :)

Disclaimer: Characters are the property of JK Rowling, et al. This was written for fun, not for profit.

Normal Does It


Ta cree doie ny share na kione croutagh – A kind heart is better than a crafty head.
… an old Celtic saying

 

Why, why, why! Because it's all logic and reason now. Science, progress, laws of hydraulics, laws of social dynamics, laws of this, that, and the other. No place for the three-legged Cyclops in the South Seas. No place for cucumber trees and oceans of wine. No place for me.
… Baron Münchhausen

'Draco, my son, come a little closer.'

Without hesitation, Draco approached his father. Kneeling beside the bed and taking his father’s paper-thin hand, Draco memorized every detail of Lucius’s sallow and pinched face.

Lucius shivered underneath the heavy wool quilts. The movement prompted Narcissa to fuss, pulling the covers in tighter around her husband and brushing away lint that wasn't there. After a few moments, in which Narcissa's face threatened to burst into tears, Lucius began to speak again.

'There is a scroll sewn into the back of the Malfoy family tapestry. Inside the scroll is a map. This map is your birthright. You must follow where this map leads you, no matter the cost. This is our family’s burden, and I would not have set it upon your shoulders if I did not believe it needed to be done. I have ruined the Malfoy name, but this journey will give you the power to make it right again.'

Placing a hand on his shoulder, Lucius pulled Draco in until his ear was flush with his father’s mouth. His whispered words tickled, but Draco listened intently, soaking in each and every syllable. His mother worried the ends of the blankets as she watched, her eyes never leaving her dying husband’s face.

After Lucius finished speaking, he fell back into the bed. The message he had given Draco had drained him of all his energy. Draco stood away from the bed, watching his mother resume her fussing, brushing out the creases in the quilts and placing small kisses on Lucius’s forehead.

Draco refused to allow the nearing death of his father or the horror of his task to faze him. He pulled in his emotions, like pieces of stone flying together to make a wall, and shied back into the shadows of the room. These last moments, Draco believed, should be between a husband and wife.

Draco fled the room, unable to face what was to come.

~*~

Harry lived a normal life. His silver analogue alarm clock was set at six-fifteen; the clamouring buzz silenced by a single brave hand darting out from underneath the warm covers. He allowed the alarm to sound twice more before his brain roused enough to send the message through his nervous system to wake up. After receiving the message, Harry crawled out on the left side of the bed and scratched his stomach, placed his cold feet into a pair of warm, red slippers waiting for him on the side of the bed and picked up his soft, worn robe from off the bedpost. Fumbling around the top of his oak nightstand, Harry searched for his glasses, which were put on as soon as they were found, and the wand underneath Harry's pillow was quickly stashed inside his right robe pocket.

Breakfast was the same every morning: a piece of slightly burnt toast, apple-grape jam and a cup of black coffee, served slightly cold. It took Harry ten minutes to finish his meagre breakfast and read through his morning post before he jumped into the shower for a quick wash.

After breakfast and a shower, still wearing his soft, worn robe, Harry headed for his small closet, choosing a nice set of Calvary twill trousers, freshly pressed, and a warm, blue jumper. As he pulled the jumper over his head, Harry's hair and glasses tangled in the material. He rearranged his glasses and ran a hand through his hair, foolishly believing that to be enough to tame his messy locks.

Before heading out the door, Harry picked up his black travelling cloak and his brown leather briefcase that was sitting on the side table and said goodbye to Kreacher, even though Harry was certain Kreacher was deaf.

Rather than Apparate to his office, today Harry chose to walk to the Underground station to take the tube to the Ministry of Magic. As a member of the Department of Magical Transportation, Harry made it a point to be abreast of all Magical and Muggle forms of travel. The day before, he had taken an old shoe Portkey to the office, finding his trip to be quick and efficient. The day before that, he had ridden the newest broom from Nimbus, which was quick, but not as efficient, as the wind made it terribly hard to hold onto his briefcase. Harry was pondering the possibility of riding a bicycle to work the next day, which could prove to be the slowest of them all as well as the least efficient, as he was unsure as to where to park his bicycle once he arrived at the Ministry.

Harry greeted all he passed on his way to the sixth level with a firm nod and small friendly smile. He did not stop to chat, nor did he stay and listen to the morning gossip, preferring to purchase the latest Daily Prophet and read the headlines on his way up the lift.

Harry's office was to the right and in the back of his Department. It was small, but efficient, containing only a desk, two filing cabinets, and a small fern next to the door. Harry placed his travelling cloak on the coat rack and put his briefcase next to his desk.

This was Harry's morning routine. It was normal. It was typical. It was the same as any other witch or wizard of his station. He owned slippers. He ate toast. He carried a briefcase.

Before work could begin, Harry's Floo-Free Fire flared on his desk. A mix between a Muggle phone and the wizarding fire-call system, the Floo-Free Fire was another successful Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes product that became a necessity in modern life. Equipped in every office, the Floo-Free Fire, or F3 as the youngsters calls it, saved the Ministry thousands of Galleons, and saved hundreds of trees from being cut down, by diminishing the need for paper aeroplane communications.

The tiny fire-pit flame rose and Ron's miniature freckled head popped through.

'Mate! Glad I caught you, I've heard something that's so bizarre, I just had to tell you.'

Harry shuffled his papers and sighed. Ron often had something he had to tell Harry first thing in the morning. The rambling stories usually only served to delay his schedule, but as Ron's only male companionship amongst a household of girls, Harry felt obliged to listen to him. He leaned closer to the small flame to hear Ron better.

'First, how's Hermione? The twins giving her trouble?'

The fire cracked and swelled as Ron scratched his head. 'The girls are fine; it’s the one in the oven that's driving her mental. The little bugger sleeps during the day and kicks all night. If it continues, Hermione's threatened to make me carry the baby. It's scary!'

An image of a bloated Ron waddling down the street in a floral maternity dress and sensible shoes popped into Harry's head. He couldn't help but laugh aloud. 'Ron, she can't make you carry the baby. It's not possible.'

Ron's face pinched, probably in reaction to his own imagination on what he would look like pregnant. 'With Hermione, anything is possible.' But, as Ron was not one to dwell on the negative, his face brightened quickly and he continued again. 'But, mate, you have to listen to what I heard from George, who heard from Hannah, who heard from Ernie, who heard from Justin, who heard from Lisa, what barmy plan Malfoy has cooked up!'

'No, stop, I don't want to hear it.'

'But, Harry!' Ron whined. 'It’s Malfoy. And he's gone nuts.'

It wasn’t that Harry didn’t find Malfoy's gone demented stories funny. Who wouldn't? But the gossip surrounding the Malfoy family was just as loony and preposterous as the stories told about him. Unfortunately, Ron believed all of them to be true, no matter how far-fetched or unreliable the source. Just last week, Ron was sure Narcissa was carrying Voldemort's love-child, and a few months ago had claimed Draco had chosen to marry a house-elf in defiance of his arranged marriage.

'Ron, his father died last month; I have no doubt that Malfoy is acting a bit strangely, considering the circumstance.'

Ron attempted to continue, but there was a knock on the door. Harry panicked, as he was not supposed to have personal Fire calls during working hours.

'I'm sorry, Ron, but I have to go back to work.'

Ron waved his hands. 'Wait! But you have to hear this, it'll only take a second, and I promise it's all true. Lisa told Justin who told Ernie who told Hannah who told George who told me that Malfoy's gone completely mental and has now started to dress like a Druidic Warrior!'

At that very instant, as if summoned by Ron's rant, a Druidic Warrior, wearing brown leather shoes laced up the sides with brown leather string, no trousers, a brown tunic, a lambskin vest over the tunic, a solid silver belt with a large sheathed knife attached above the right hip, heavy leather fingerless gloves over each hand, long braided blond hair tied back with leather bands, stood in his doorway.

Harry was unsure what to say, until he remembered Ron was still on Firecall. 'Ron, can I call you back later? I seem to have a visitor.'

Ron's energy deflated. 'Sure thing, Harry. I probably should call Hermione to check up on her. But I'm telling you the thing about Malfoy is true.'

Harry looked up and watched the Warrior's pale eyebrow lift.

'Ron, no worries, mate. I believe you.'

brown 2

~*~

Nary a thought came to mind as Harry stared at his visitor lounging comfortably in his office chair, his leather-fitted feet plopped up on Harry's desk. After several conversation starters came to mind and were hastily dismissed, Harry took a deep breath and decided on a more professional approach.

'How may I help you?'

The Druidic Warrior smirked.

'Fail to recognize me, then, Potter?'

Harry had, in fact, not failed to recognize the resemblance the man bore to his Hogwarts rival, Draco Malfoy. But Harry was having a hard time convincing his brain that the man with the long braided hair sitting across from him was the aristocratic pure-blooded man Harry had seen preening in front of a mirror not three months before during a Ministry Gala.

But, as a member of the Department of Magical Transportation, Harry forced himself to suspend his disbelief and continued his standard questions for those who sought his help.

'Are you in need of a Portkey, permit, or have you come to file a complaint?'

Draco rearranged himself in Harry's office chair, switching his crossed feet from one to the other, plopping dirt onto Harry's clean desk. Harry promptly spelled the dirt away without a sound.

'I've come to take the Wave-Sweeper. I heard from your secretary that I have to go through you.'

Without even a blink, Harry replied, 'No.'

Clearly not expecting such a swift negative, Draco dropped his feet, leaving more dirt on Harry's clean rug, and leaned menacingly forward.

'I don't think you heard me correctly. I'm not asking your permission, I am informing you of my actions. It is out of my fondness for this current Ministry that I do so, not out of obligation. Technically, as a descendant of Lugh Lámhfada I have every right to do with the ship as I please.'

Harry cleared his throat and began to speak, using his official dry Ministry tone of voice. 'The Wave-Sweeper is under Ministry control. If you would like to file for a complaint of ownership, I am afraid I cannot help you there. My secretary can help you find your way to the Department of Magical Law. If you are in need of a permit to use the Wave-Sweeper, I am afraid my denial is final. The Wave-Sweeper is a historical artefact and therefore cannot leave the Ministry under any circumstances.'

With a calculated quizzical look, Draco sat back into the office chair and rested his head on top of his raised fingers. 'Strange that you say that. According to my sources, the Wave-Sweeper is currently not in care of the Ministry.'

Draco's statement made him pause, just for a second, but that second ruined any credibility Harry had and he was forced to admit defeat. With a large sigh, and a quick Imperturbable charm, Harry attempted to salvage the situation.

Returning to his normal tone of voice, Harry spoke sharply, 'What have you heard?'

With a swift kick, Draco's feet returned to the top of Harry's desk with a large thud. 'Very interesting things, very interesting. According to my mother, the Wave-Sweeper had been in the care of the Black family for centuries, handed down from their Druidic ancestors and kept in the family vault. Much to my surprise, when I inquired with the goblins at Gringotts as to its whereabouts, I was told that the Wave-Sweeper was owned by the Ministry and was stored in their historical vaults. Now, I thought that quite strange, and my mother only lies when it serves her best interest, so I had my family lawyers look into it, and much to my surprise, I learned that the Wave-Sweeper had in fact been bequeathed to a certain bespectacled Potter, and not to the Ministry.'

'So,' Draco continued, his mouth arching ever upwards, 'I'm a little confused as to why the Ministry would be under the impression that they owned something that currently is owned by you. Care to enlighten me?'

A headache began to grow behind Harry's right eye, but to acknowledge it would have been seen as confirmation of Draco's statements. While what Draco said was true, Harry had no desire to continue the line of conversation.

'I gave the Ministry the Wave-Sweeper after the war. Your family lawyers can request a copy of the statement of ownership from the Department of Magical Law.'

With a flick of his wrist, Draco pulled out a small leather pouch. He pulled out a piece of yellowed parchment and placed it on top of Harry's papers on his desk.

'Actually, you didn't. You filed the paperwork without the official Ministry seal, deeming the contract null and void. Funny, but I thought all contracts were magically checked for the seal by the Ministry clerks. A certain Lavender Brown, fellow Gryffindor and current Ministry clerk, wouldn't have anything to do with that, now would she?'

He certainly is his father's son, Harry thought. The Malfoys’ political plotting had been legendary before the war with Voldemort. Lucius had most Department heads and important political figures in his back pocket through his own blackmailing schemes. And while the Malfoys held no political clout currently, tales of their devious plots still circulated around the water cooler.

At the mention of Lavender Brown, Harry had no choice but to listen to what Draco had to say. Filing a document without an official seal was grounds for an instant sacking. Draco only had to make the document he currently sported in his hands public, and Lavender would be out on the street.

'What do you want, Malfoy?'

Draco rolled the document and placed it safely into his pouch once again. 'Use of the Wave-Sweeper. I only intend to borrow it for a few months, and then you can have it back, along with my silence as to the true owner. And, as sign of friendship, I won't inquire as to why you insist on hiding your ownership, although I am dying to know.'

Harry bit his lip. He had quickly run out of options.

'What do you need her for?'

Draco's smug face turned serious. 'On my father's deathbed, he gave me a map. He claimed that the map led to something that would bring the Malfoy name back from ruin, an object that could make us known for our goodness to humanity, and not our evil. But the map is old, inaccurate, and the location names are no longer current. The Wave-Sweeper has the magical ability of locating any place, no matter how difficult. I need that ship to fulfil my destiny.'

'What sort of an object is this?'

Draco looked away, and lowered his eyes. 'It’s called the Magical Cauldron. What it does, I can't tell you. The properties of the object are a family secret. I would be struck dead if I were to speak of it to someone who was not a Malfoy. But know this,' Draco stared straight into Harry's eyes, 'I swore to my father that I would complete this mission, no matter the cost. You have no reason to trust me, but I had hoped you would realize that if I had planned on taking over the world, I wouldn't have come to the Saviour of it first, now would I?

Harry rubbed his temple. Thank Merlin he had stockpiled weeks of leave.

'Fine, but I'm going with you. I want to see this map of yours, as well as your plans. There will be no surprises on this trip, Malfoy. The moment we step into danger, we will go back.'

Draco laughed a deep belly laugh that shook his braided hair and rattled his sheathed sword.

'What? Don't trust me with your precious ship?'

Harry stood, gathering his briefcase and cloak.

'Not in the least.'

~*~

It had been a few years since the Wave-Sweeper had been at sea. Stored in an isolated cave near Polperro, Cornwall, the previously Disillusioned Wave-Sweeper stood majestically against the dark rock. The sails of the single-mast sloop were down, and the hull was covered in a thin layer of dust that sparkled underneath the beams of sunlight coming in through tiny holes in the cave walls. The haughty mermaid resting on the prow yawned and stretched, sending Harry a sleepy wave before curling back onto her side. The girl had never been a morning person.

Running a hand over the smooth mahogany, Harry could almost feel all of the water and air that had rushed along the sides throughout its career. She was a fine ship, but he wished dearly he didn’t have to see her so soon.

'How are you doing, old girl?'

If the boat could speak, Harry was sure her response would have been a long series of questions as to why she was hidden away and why she wasn’t in the open air as she was made to be.

Harry patted the hull. 'It was better this way, old girl. But, I do have good news for you. We’ll be sailing again, you and me, and a few of the crew will be returning. But none of this action first, thought later business, okay? This time, we’ll make use of our heads before we get involved.'

Harry began the arduous task of magically hauling the ship out of the cave and out into the ocean, roping it in tight beside the high dock and releasing the anchor. Once secure, Harry Transfigured a small coin from his pocket into a ramp and climbed aboard the main deck. He sent a myriad of cleaning spells throughout the boat, creating magical brushes to soap and soak the dirty oak beams and dancing dusters to clean the magically-enlarged cabins below deck, making sure each room was sea-worthy.

The elevated quarterdeck on the rear of the ship was the last place Harry cleaned, preferring to hand dust the captain’s wheel and the elaborately carved brightwork . The quarterdeck was Harry’s favourite place, having the best view of the open ocean. The morning water against the dark rocks was beautiful with the sunlight playfully dancing with the blue-green waves, but Harry was looking forward to watching the sun dip underneath the sea, changing the blue and greens of the waves to a vibrant orange and red.

Even though he knew he shouldn’t, Harry was glad to be back as the Captain of the Wave-Sweeper once more.

'We have a guest coming aboard,' Harry told the ship. 'He’s a nasty tosser, but I’m here to protect you.'

A board creaked. Harry whipped his body toward the sound, aiming his wand at the intruder.

Still dressed like his Celtic ancestors, Draco approached Harry slowly, keeping a firm eye on Harry’s wand.

'Do you often speak to inanimate objects?'

Harry put the wand away sheepishly, remembering belatedly that Draco was meeting him here, just ahead of the crew.

'The Wave-Sweeper may not be able to speak, but I have no doubt she has a soul. If I were you, I’d try to stay on her good side, lest she throw you overboard.'

Draco snorted, relaxing on his heels and folding his arms together. 'Fine, my captain, I will endeavour to endear the ship to me. But beware, I'm a known charmer and I would hate to get between a man and his boat.'

'Ship. I think those braids have rattled your mind,” Harry retorted with a snort. 'I've never known you to have this sort of humour.'

'What, my badges fourth year didn't clue you in?' Draco scoffed. 'I rather thought the Potter Stinks slogan was a mark of brilliance.'

Caught in the nostalgic annoyance of Draco’s jibes and pranks, Harry had failed to hear his friend’s approach.

'Unfortunately for you, Malfoy, your Hogwarts cronies will not be here to laugh at your lame jokes. Step out of line, and you might find yourself on the bottom of the ocean with a rock tied to your leg.'

Harry brightened at the sound of his old friend’s voice.

'It’s been too long, Dean,' Harry said before engulfing Dean in a firm hug. It had been six months since Harry had last seen Dean. After the Wave-Sweeper had been grounded, Dean had aimlessly wandered the world, working a variety of odd jobs and sampling the local delights, as Dean liked to call them. He came back to England occasionally, full of fantastical tales and new tattoos, but he never lingered long enough for Harry to have a real conversation with him.

Dean had been the first one to volunteer as a crewman of the Wave-Sweeper after the war, and he was the first to object to Harry’s decision to end their adventures. Harry never revealed his reasons to the crew. But Dean, and what had happened to him, played a large role in Harry’s change of heart.

Even now, Harry’s throat constricted at the sight of Dean’s eye patch and his slow limp.

'So,’ Dean began with his one eye boring into Harry’s, 'any reason why you thought you could sail the high seas without your first-mate by your side? Planning on replacing me with Malfoy, even though he’s clearly touched in the head?'

Dean raked a condescending look down Draco’s front. Harry watched Draco’s body arch like an angered cat. He wouldn’t have been surprised if Draco had hissed.

'I wasn’t sure if you were in town.' What Harry said was a lie, and Dean clearly knew it, but he kept his mouth shut, most likely due to Draco’s presence.

Instead, Dean put his arm around Harry and plastered a bright smile on his face. 'Lucky for you I was visiting Luna, and was with her when she received your post. If I hadn't, you might have been stuck with goldilocks over there.'

Draco was clearly not amused at Dean's remarks, and had his mouth open, presumably to whip out a scathing retort, when a small yellow goldfinch landed delicately on Draco's shoulder. When he attempted to push the bird off, it bit his finger.

'Ouch!'

Dean and Harry fell into uncontrollable laughter. Between chuckles, Harry tried to speak.

'The bird is another thing you need to get used to, Draco. She's the ship's only form of communication with the outside world.'

Draco continued to swat at the bird. 'I have my own owl, thank you. I don't trust a tiny bird not to lose my post.'

Suddenly, the bird flew off Draco's shoulder and quickly began to morph. Where a goldfinch once was, a small pale girl with blond hair and large wide blue eyes now stood.

'Hello, Draco. I apologise for biting you, but you wouldn't let me sit on your shoulder.' Luna turned her head and raised a finger. ‘And I don't think you should use your owl. Harry doesn't like them. But don't worry, I'm a much better carrier than an owl any day.'

Luna smiled and flitted over to Dean and Harry kissing them both on the cheek. 'Why is Draco dressed like Lugh Lámhfada? Is this the new uniform? Should I change too?'

Dean walked over to Draco and hit him hard on the shoulder. 'Yes, Draco, why are you dressed like a girl?'

Draco massaged his shoulder and glared at Dean. 'Mind your own,' he replied petulantly.

Completely ignoring the exchange, Luna waved a wand from the tip of her head to bottom of her shoes, changing her garb from eclectic witch's wear to Celtic princess, her radish earrings turning into yellow goldfinch feathers.

Draco turned away from Dean and Luna toward Harry. He attempted to gather his anger, but Harry spied a twitch of his eyebrow.

'Your crew is lovely,’ Draco's sarcasm rolled off his tongue like perfumed air, 'but I was under the impression that you were the only one accompanying me on this quest.'

'Like Luna said earlier, I don't like owls. I need a way to communicate if something goes wrong. I trust Luna, and with more than my post,' Harry replied, walking away from Draco and releasing the main sail. Draco followed him.

'Well then, I trust you won't mind if I asked a few of my colleagues to join us.'

As if called, a band of scrappy warriors stepped onto the boat. In the lead was an older grizzled man, his salt and pepper beard hiding the deep pocket scars that lined his face. Behind him was a smaller redheaded boy, his eyes constantly turning to scan his surroundings, his face in a scowl. And behind him was a tall, scantily clad, muscular dark woman with long black hair in a single braid, and a bow and arrow strapped to her back.

'Let me introduce you to my crew. First, we have Sir Dylan Culhwich, a fine wizard well versed in magical history. He will be our navigator, as he is familiar with most of what is said on the map.'

Harry scrunched his eyebrows on Draco's emphasis on most.

'Next we have Finn MacCool, a young genius straight out of Hogwarts. With his Ravenclaw brain and the sly cunning of a Slytherin, I'm not sure how the hat placed the boy in Gryffindor. At least he didn't have to suffer as a Hufflepuff. I met the boy at Honeydukes where he had the nerve to fight me over a bar of chocolates with no regard to who I was. I admired his tenacity.'

Finn puffed out his stomach and stomped around the deck, until Sir Culhwich gave him the eye.

'And finally we come to the beauty in our group.' The tall Amazon-like woman raised an eyebrow. 'You might recognize her as your fellow classmate, although she was in Ravenclaw. Harry, meet Padma Patil. She's been living in the jungles of South America, trailing the ferocious Chupacabra. I convinced her to accompany us, only by promising to fund her next excursion.'

Harry had heard that Padma had run away from her family after refusing their arranged marriage, going native in the Amazon, hunting down rare and unusual magical animals. But, it was still such a shock to see Padma so changed.

Luna, suddenly appearing from behind the fore mast, stepped up to Padma, her tiny stature reaching only Padma's leather covered breasts. 'Why were you searching South America? The Chupacabra lives in a shack on the east side of Texas, eating up all the goats on a nearby farm. We reported on it a few years ago in The Quibbler.'

Padma sneered, 'I am a trained tracker. I follow scientific clues, not fantasy conjecture. But I see you are still set on creating stories, rather than learning anything real.'

Luna huffed and returned to working on the fore sail. Having heard many a witch and wizard mock Luna with nary a change in her disposition, it was a shock to Harry to see Luna react to Padma's statement in such a way.

Dean hobbled forward, extending his hand to each visitor. 'Welcome to the Wave-Sweeper! Harry is our Captain, and we listen to him at all times. I'm his first-mate, so you listen to me only part of the time. Luna is our communication specialist, so if you have a post that needs to be sent, you give it to her. Your cabins are all downstairs, we sleep two to a room. Padma and Luna will share the first cabin, Finn and Sir Culhwich will be in the second, and Malfoy and I will share the third cabin, where I can keep my eye on you.'

Dean laughed at his own joke, but Draco was not laughing in return. 'Where is Harry going to sleep?'

'I sleep in the Captain's cabin, below the quarterdeck,' Harry replied, waving a wand to release the ropes that secured the ship to the dock.

'Then I'll sleep in the Captain's cabin as well.'

Harry gaped.

'Fine with me,' Dean replied, shaking his shoulders. 'I have my suspicions that you are a loud snorer.'

'The anchor's up, Captain!' Luna cried, her tiny body leaning over the forecastle.

Harry grinned. 'You all better hold onto something until you get your sea legs.'

Harry then Apparated to the quarterdeck, behind the captain's wheel and shouted. 'Raise the gangplank and set sail!'

The ship shivered for a moment, forcing Draco and his crew to all reach for something to hold. It then paused, as if suspended on the top of the waves. Harry's stomach lifted in anticipation. And then, the Wave-Sweeper zoomed.

~*~

In the meeting room, the crew's eyes were all glued to the nautical map in front of them, Harry more so than the rest. The old parchment was slightly burned on the right corner, and frayed around the edges, but the markings were quite clear. Unfortunately, the landmarks were all names and places Harry had never heard of, nor had anyone else on the ship, with the exception of Sir Culhwich. But that knowledge had been gained through his studies of magical myths and folklore passed down from witch to wizard that he had been collecting throughout his career. There was nothing on the map that referenced anything current, and Sir Culhwich's knowledge was all hearsay. Nothing was solid, nothing real.

This made Harry very concerned. In the modern world, there were no more uncharted territories. There were lands that were led by unknown leaders, there were islands that were less studied, there were animals and plants that were rare and unique, there were peoples with cultures that were foreign and strange, but there was never a complete absence of information. The unknown felt like an itch in the back of Harry's throat that he just could not scratch. He attempted to silently create a copy of the map in hopes of sending it someone, specifically Hermione, for more information, or at the very least to study the map himself in private, but the spell just did not work.

Harry had no choice but to voice his doubts.

'I've been around the world several times over and never have I come across a land such as the one shown here. Even if these places have changed their names over time, the coordinates of these locations point to the middle of the Atlantic,' Harry stated, watching Draco's reaction closely. Draco's eyes were glued to his.

'The map also shows no indication of the specific whereabouts of the Magical Cauldron.'

Dean chimed in his support, 'Is this a fool's errand? Do you even know what you are doing, Malfoy?'

Draco stood tall, his eyes remaining firm on Harry's. 'If I knew exactly where the Magical Cauldron was, then I wouldn't need your help. The best plan is to find this land and start the search, but if you don't trust me, then trust your ship. Tell the Wave-Sweeper the first location and let's see where it takes us.'

Padma adjusted her bow and threw her braid behind her. 'So, boys, where do we start first?'

'Before we rush into things, how do we know it's safe?' Harry interrupted, his face growing hard. 'I won't risk the lives of my crew.' Without forethought, Harry glanced over at Dean who instantly turned his face away from Harry's. Harry's stomach flipped realizing his mistake.

'If you're too scared, we can rush in and clear any danger before you touch your prissy foot on land, Captain,' Finn replied, his tiny fists up in readiness for a fight. Harry sighed silently in his mind. The boy's Gryffindor tendencies were out loud and proud, and that was always a dangerous characteristic in the face of the unknown.

Dean came forward, enraged by Finn's statement, and grabbed Finn by the collar, shaking the boy's small frame. 'Do you even know who you are speaking to?'

'I've heard all the stories about Harry Potter, but clearly the old man's lost his touch,' Finn snapped back, his chin held high as he pulled away from Dean's clutches.

Dean's body clenched and he lifted a hand, threatening to land a punch on Finn's freckled face.

'Harry's not old,' Luna interjected. 'He's only been on this earth thirty-two years, six months, and three days. Most wizards live more than a hundred years. My great-great grandfather lived for two hundred years and four days before he choked on a frog's leg.'

With those words, all stopped their morbid fascination with the ensuing fight between Dean and Finn and turned to stare at Luna who was busy twirling her yellow-feathered earrings around her fingers.

'He never liked frog legs.'

The crew laughed. With a single nod from Harry, Dean let Finn loose, but not before pushing him off balance. Finn was ready to return the favour, but one look from Draco stopped him in his tracks. Finn brushed himself off and stood closer to Padma, on the other side of the map. The woman sniffed in his direction, but said nothing.

Draco approached Harry, waving his hand in dismissal to the others. 'This fighting will get us nowhere. All of you, wait outside. I want to speak to Potter alone.'

Dean began to object, but Harry held up a hand and nodded to Draco. They watched as the crew piled out of the room. Then, Harry turned to Draco with an inkling of what the other man was about to say.

'This is not the Harry Potter that I used to know. What happened to the boy who mindlessly disregarded rules and jumped head first into danger? You were the epitome of Gryffindor stupidity, much like Finn. When did you become a timid Hufflepuff? Does it have anything to do with your first-mate, Thomas? You need to learn to hide your pitying looks, Potter. The man clearly does not want them.'

Harry placed his fists on the table, attempting to curb his agitation. He counted to ten before he responded to Draco's irritating questions. 'It's been fourteen years since we belonged to any house, Malfoy. Some of us grew beyond who we were when we were eleven. Right now, I have an obligation to this crew to keep them safe and if that means looking like an old fart, so be it. I do not like walking into things blindly, and I have a terrible feeling about this map of yours.'

Harry then looked directly into Draco's eyes, so hard he could see the other man shift ever so slightly back. 'And regarding Dean, do not judge us for things you do not understand.'

Draco bowed his head in a surprisingly submissive manner. But Harry caught the smirk that he hid underneath his long fringe. Draco was still the bane of his existence, and still the only man that could get under his skin. Though irritated, this was still Harry's ship. He was the Captain, and therefore had the upper hand.

'If you wish to find your Magical Cauldron, you'll learn to stop poking your nose in where it doesn't belong. We'll begin the search, but I claim the right to stop this mission at any time.'

Draco smirked, as if what Harry had said had revealed more that it should. 'Oh no, there is something else going on here, Potter. You have piqued my interest.' Draco stepped forward, his face coming impossibly close to Harry's, enough for Harry to smell his musky cologne. 'And when my interest is piqued, I never stop until that interest is satisfied.' Draco licked his lips. Harry unconsciously mirrored the action. 'So, my Captain,' Draco purred, 'I say we go here first.'

Harry looked down, thankful for the distraction. He took a moment to refocus before reading where Draco pointed.

Seeing the location, Harry nodded his head and walked swiftly away from Draco, unsure what had just happened, but unwilling to dwell on it. Instead he headed directly out of the room and out onto the deck. Once behind his wheel Harry yelled out to the Wave-Sweeper.

'Find us Towl Creg Y Vaggane, my ship, and bring us there safely.'

The ship slowed, as it usually did when Harry would call out a location. But there was something different. The location Harry had called seemed to require something new from the Wave-Sweeper as it did not immediately set sail in a direction. Instead, the wood on the deck began to vibrate. Harry could see the magic swirling around the boat, surrounding everything and everyone in a thin mist of sparks and light.

Harry did not turn to see, but he could feel Draco standing close behind him, and smelled his musky scent, still strong even though Draco wasn't standing as close to Harry as he was in the meeting room. Luna changed into her goldfinch form and settled upon Harry's shoulder. Harry reached up and petted her back feathers.

For a moment, Harry believed that the location he had called out must not have existed. Their journey would end here, as the land the map displayed surely was not real.

But then, as if answering Harry's doubts, the ship began to move, but not right or left as Harry had expected, but rather up, rising high into the sky at an alarming rate, the waves below swishing against the sides until the ship cleared the water entirely.

'What's going on?' Finn yelled, holding on tightly to the foremast. Padma and Sir Culhwich were both behind him, keeping one hand firmly gripped in the ropes.

Harry had no response, too engrossed in watching the sea grow farther and farther away.

'I believe I know why you have never seen this land on a map before, Potter.'

Harry ignored Draco's jibe as his heart dropped to his stomach. For the first time, Harry felt unsafe on board the Wave-Sweeper, as the strong and sturdy oak beams turned and became as light and airy as white clouds.