G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

Albus smirked. "Mum says the songs are nice, so long as you don't listen to the actual words."

"Which only makes you pay even closer attention," James agreed. "I especially like the one about the old dead pirates fighting over a doubloon, chopping off bits of each other until there's nothing left but a bunch of skeletal hands hopping around, gripping cutlasses."

"A lot of them do seem to have a similar theme," Petra agreed. "A lot of dead pirates, barrels of rum, cursed lost treasures, that sort of thing."

"I heard Merlin and Dad talking about it at lunch," Albus said, lowering his voice conspiratorially. "Merlin says ever since the International Magical Police have cracked down on wizard piracy, a lot of the pirates have had to turn to more honest work. Most of them take jobs on ships like this. I bet these blokes are all former privateers themselves! You think?"

Ralph squinted up at the men in the masts. "I'd have expected more peglegs and parrots," he shrugged.

Albus rolled his eyes.

As the afternoon wore on, Petra and Izzy went below-decks to have tea and unpack. Albus wandered off in search of deckhands to grill about their nefarious former lives, and James, Ralph, and Lucy meandered their way to the bow, where they found James' dad, Professor Longbottom, and Merlinus Ambrosius watching the seas and talking.

"Did you see the big gorilla?" James asked as the adults greeted them.

Harry nodded. "The captain took us down to meet him. He's very intelligent. Likes popcorn. Apparently he's the primary mode of propulsion on the landward ends of the journey."

"The captain says it keeps him from getting fat and lazy," Neville added, smiling.

"You met the captain too?" Lucy asked, peering up at the men.

"He's an old wizard's navy man," Neville answered. "And a distant relative of mine. Knew my parents, way back when I was a baby. I haven't seen him in decades, but still, it's nice to connect with the old family network."

Ralph glanced from Merlin to Harry Potter, and then asked, "What are you all looking for?"

"I smell land," Merlin replied mildly. "I think we have nearly reached today's destination."

James blinked. "Already? We're there?"

"Boy," Ralph commented, peering out over the waves, "magic sure makes the world an itty bitty place."

"He doesn't mean we've already made it to America, silly," Lucy said, laughing. "We're stopping at a port along the way."

"What for?" James asked.

"To pick up more travelers," Harry replied, taking off his glasses and wiping sea mist from them with his shirt tail. "And drop off cargo, get supplies, and get rigged for the transatlantic leg of the journey."

"You mean," Ralph said, clarifying, "we've sailed all day, and we haven't yet gotten to the transatlantic part?"

"The ocean is a monstrously large place," Merlin said, smiling, his beard streaming in the wind. "It provides us an excuse not to do anything for a day or two. Enjoy it, Mr. Deedle. Soon enough, the pace of life will catch us all up again."

James looked at Ralph expectantly. "Did you hear the Headmaster?" he prodded gently.

Ralph glanced at him and then rolled his eyes. "Yes, yes. 'Monstrously' large. Look, I'm not a big baby. You can stop trying to give me nightmares."

"I would have said the ocean was 'beastly huge'," Lucy said, "but 'monstrously' is even better. Reminds me of those old woodcut maps covered in sea serpents and krakens and the like."

"Is that land over there?" Neville asked suddenly, leaning on the railing and squinting.

Merlin nodded. "It may well be. You can smell it, can't you? The trees, the sand…"

"Not all of us are quite as sensitive to such things as you are, Headmaster," Harry replied, shaking his head.

James leaned against the railing and peered into the distance. The sky had grown clear and cloudless as the day progressed. Now, as the sun lowered, the clarity of the air made the horizon seem like something he could very nearly reach out and touch. The ship's prow bounced rhythmically on the waves, sending up bursts of fine spray. Beyond it, sitting on the watery rim of the world like a bug on a windowsill, was a tiny black shape.

"What is it?" Lucy asked, shading her eyes. "Is it another boat?"

No one answered. Gradually, the shape grew as the Gwyndemere approached it, slowing almost imperceptibly. To James, it began to look like the top of a giant's head, fringed with wild hair, peeking over the horizon. He watched, transfixed, as the shape finally resolved into the unmistakable outline of a tiny island, hardly bigger than the back garden of the Potter family home in Marble Arch. A narrow white beach ringed the island, embracing a growth of brush and wild grasses. In the center, half a dozen scrubby trees swayed ponderously. As the Gwyndemere slowed, coming within shouting distance of the tiny island, James was shocked to hear a voice cry out from the shadow of the trees.

"A ship!" the voice shouted. "Oh, thank heavens, a ship! At long last!"

A man stumbled out onto the beach and jumped up and down, waving a length of driftwood in his hand. The man was very thin and wildly bedraggled, his hair and beard grown to nearly comical proportions and his clothing bleached white.

"Hooray!" he shouted. "My messages in all those old bottles were not in vain! The seagulls laughed at me, they did! Told me it was foolish to hope, but I kept the faith! I knew someday my long, long sojourn would come to an—oh, it's you," he said, his voice dropping on the last three words.

"Ahoy, Roberts!" a sailor in the Gwyndemere 's crow's nest called. "All's clear along the span o' the compass. Captain Ash Farragut requests landing."

"Permission granted," the erstwhile castaway called back grumpily, turning and walking back toward the trees. His voice carried easily over the lapping waves as he muttered, "Tells me all's clear along the span o' the compass. Like I ain't been sittin' here all day, keepin' a lookout. S'my job, after all, isn't it?" James watched with fascination as the bedraggled man stopped beneath one of the trees and tapped it with his driftwood walking stick. "Portmaster Roberts reporting the arrival of the Gwyndemere, Captain Farragut in command, with partial complement of travelers, goods, and cargo. Forty minutes late too, unless the sun's a liar."

"Ah, we've reached port," a voice behind James said cheerfully. He glanced back to see his Uncle Percy dressed in a fancy traveling cloak and matching derby. "Aquapolis for the night, ladies and gentlemen. Last landfall 'til journey's end. I'll go tell the others."

James glanced from his uncle to Ralph and Lucy. "Some 'port' this is. I'm not even sure we'll all fit down there."

"Yeah," Ralph agreed. "If it's all the same to everyone else, I think I'll just stay here on the ship for the night."

"Quite clever of the portmaster to play the part of a shipwreck survivor, though," Lucy commented appreciatively. "Just in case any Muggle ships come in sight of the place."

James looked back at the man on the shore, his brow furrowed. "How sure are you that he's just playing the part?"

"Whoa," Ralph said suddenly, grabbing onto the railing with one hand. "What's that?"

"What's what?" James asked, and then gasped as he felt it too. The ship was shuddering very faintly, as if a thousand fists were pounding on the hull. A sound accompanied the sensation, a sort of low rumble, deep and huge.

"It's all right," Neville said, albeit rather nervously. "Somehow, I think this is supposed to happen."

"It's not just happening on the ship," Lucy cried, pointing. "Look at the island!"

James looked. The leaves of the trees were shaking faintly. A large yellowish fruit fell from one of the trees and rolled to a stop on the white sand. Strangely, there seemed to be far more of the sand than there should have been. It was as if the beach was expanding around the island, growing, pushing back the waves. The man on the shore seemed to be completely unperturbed by the phenomenon. He ambled over to a large dark boulder, reached behind it and retrieved a clipboard, which he consulted critically.