Work Text:
The sky is dark with steely clouds and the threat of thunder. Harry stares at the clouds curiously, leaning against the ship’s rail and wondering what’s gotten the waters here so riled up.
He’s so lost in his thoughts he almost jumps off the ship when a hand claps his shoulder. “What’s wrong?” Ron asks, joining him and peering out at the ocean like he’ll see any better. “And if you say nothing I’ll throw you over.”
Harry rolls his eyes. “Oh no, what a nightmare.” Ron snorts and crosses his arms, eyes expectant. “Okay, fine. The weather’s bad here but I feel like it’s… not supposed to be.”
Ron stares at him. “That’s it?”
“Just a bad feeling,” Harry says, eyes drawn to the sky. “Can’t really explain it.”
“As long as I don’t have to get into the water,” Ron says, his skin glowing with heat. The cold air fizzles around his cheeks.
“I wouldn’t torture you,” Harry scoffs, nudging his shoulder. “I’m not an idiot and I’d rather not be crispy.”
“Smart man,” Ron grins, eyes flashing amber. “Now be a smarter man and ask Luna.”
“I didn’t want to –”
Ron interrupts him. “If you say you didn’t want to bother her I really will throw you over,” he says seriously. “You know she’d be angry if she knew you wanted to ask her something and you didn’t for her sake.”
“Yeah, Harry,” a voice suddenly says, nearly making Harry jump out of his skin. “You’re not on your own anymore.”
“Fuck, Dean, don’t go invisible on me,” Harry gasps, pressing a hand to his rapid heartbeat.
“Just practicing!” Dean says cheerfully, a mischievous glint in his dark eyes. “Besides, no secrets on the boat. Go talk to Luna.”
“Is this an intervention,” Harry grumbles, pushing off the rail.
“It can be!” Ron calls after him, grinning with Dean.
Harry rolls his eyes again but can’t help a smile as he heads for the cabins.
Luna is in her room, Ginny at her side. Harry hesitates but Ginny beckons him in. “She said you’d be coming soon,” she says, picking up the cloth over Luna’s eyes to dunk in a basin of water. “You should know better than to think she doesn’t know everything,” she chuckles.
“Still getting used to that,” Harry pulls up a chair and collapses into it. “How is she?”
“Rather dry of throat,” Luna says, expression peaceful despite the heavy red flush. “And hot of body. Transient, I’m sure. Thank you for asking.”
“I’m glad that’s all, honestly,” Harry says, watching the care in Ginny’s movements as she places the damp cloth on her girlfriend’s forehead. “Snake bites can be nasty.”
“It’s like a cold,” Luna says, her jaw tensing as she fights back a yawn. “What did you want to ask me?”
Harry hesitates but Ginny’s nod urges him on. “I have a strange feeling about this storm. Do you sense anything about it?”
Luna hums and tilts her head back into the pillow. “Your fate is tied to it,” she finally says. “There is someone nearby. I can’t see much more than that, unfortunately. It may be the fever.” She turns up her palm and after a moment, Harry takes her hand. He can feel her skin pulse with magic as she tunes into her abilities. “I think you’re supposed to investigate.”
Harry grimaces. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”
“Don’t worry, Harry,” Ginny says, casually spinning a knife in her hand. “You can’t lose us. Seamus would blow a hole in the ocean if we couldn’t find you.”
“Don’t even joke,” Harry winces at the thought. “I’d lose my tail.”
“But you wouldn’t lose us,” Ginny grins. The sentiment touches Harry, but honestly, he could do without the threat of being maimed.
The water is colder than he’s used to, but Harry has put up with less than tropical waters before. He glances up at his crew’s ship and spins in a slow circle, closing his eyes and stretching his senses into the ocean surrounding him. The darkness beyond his eyelids slowly eases and he becomes aware of the fish around him, more active than he would’ve anticipated. A few swim curiously around him and dart away.
Pushing his focus further out, he pinpoints a heaviness on the water’s surface a few kilometres away. There’s an uncomfortable aura about it, and something within him knows it’s related to the storm. He jets towards it with a flick of his tail, clutching a net and a handful of weapons to his chest. He glances to the side as a marlin glides neatly beside him.
It’s another minute before he realises this is unusual.
What are you doing here? He wonders, staring openly at the fish casually racing him. He opens his mouth and that he needs to take a moment to convince himself his gills will save him from drowning speaks for how much time he’s spent out of the water since he met Hermione. “Why are you here? It’s too cold for you.”
The water currents run through him with the answer. My friend has been taken.
Harry frowns, his yellow eyes narrowing with confusion. “Siren?” he asks, splitting his focus between the water’s navigation and its translation.
Does it matter? My friend is also of the water. Harry’s mouth twists with amusement. Swordfish always had an attitude he admired.
“Is your friend on that ship?” he asks this time, a sense of foreboding itching beneath his skin as he nears his target. He ducks deeper, following his instinct to stay hidden. If Luna was right and this ship is full of hunters, he has to be careful.
Yes. Will you help? I will stab you if not.
Harry snorts with amusement, bubbles streaming out of his nose. He covers his face and slows down, now trying to avoid losing more air needlessly. “I will try,” he says, not wanting to make promises he can’t keep. Especially if the fish’s friend ends up being his enemy.
That is a yes, the fish says with finality. It swims deeper and begins circling, clearly intent on watching Harry’s every move.
Harry rolls his eyes and uses his claws to gorge severe lines into the wood. Once he’s deep enough he curls his claws until he has a decent grip, then holds his knives in his mouth as he winds his net through the holes and ties it with a secure knot. He then checks that his own ship is a safe distance away, grips his knives with his hands and opens his mouth to sing.
The sound fills the water and echoes with magic, his song creating a haven of euphoria and freedom with a strength won from years of practice. Soon enough, the surrounding sea becomes filled with pirates jumping off the deck above. Harry swims smoothly between them, slitting throats and letting the bodies float around him. He works quickly, his song gaining power as he continues his siren song. Nearby fish waste no time in scavenging, obscuring the water into a writhing mass of black.
Luckily for him, only a few of the pirates had any valuables on them, and even then it’s mostly in the form of decorative swords. Fish avoid him as he dumps them in his net and keeps singing, eventually clinging to the side of the ship with his claws until he’s sure there aren’t any stupid pirates left.
That leaves the smart ones, unfortunately.
He crawls up the ship until he’s just beneath the waterline and then shifts into his human form, his inky black tail parting into two sturdy legs with clawed toes. Knives held in his mouth again, he darts up the hull with inhuman speed and immediately pounces on the first pirate he sees. The man barely gets out a squawk of indignation before his throat is slit, an ear plug falling out as his body hits the floor.
Harry ducks a sword and slashes out with both hands, keeping his body in fluid motion as he makes his way through the pirates. He sees one yell at another, and a wicked grin cracks his lips as he realises they have some degree of hearing. “Idiots,” he murmurs, taking a deep breath of salty air before he sings.
This time the water isn’t here to augment his song. His voice pierces the air with awful shrieks that have the nearest pirates flinching and covering their ears. He takes advantage of the opening and carves their fat bellies, ignoring the stink of guts that fill the air.
He’s sweaty by the time he’s finished, the deck littered with bleeding bodies. That anxious paranoia hasn’t abated yet, though, so he makes for the cabins cautiously. He hears a click just before he reaches the door and grimaces with disgust. He hates guns.
“Cheating prick!” he yells, following it up with a song so terrible it shatters the glass windows. There’s a yell from inside, and then bullets rip through the wooden door with such succession that Harry would have be in trouble if he was human.
He waits until the shots have stopped and then calmly opens the door, meeting the terrified eyes of the captain. “Used up all your bullets already? Shame.”
His knives sweep out in a smooth arc to slash the sides of his throat. Sensing nobody in the immediate vicinity, Harry rifles through the man’s clothes and tucks a few jewels and coins into a pocket. He dangles a set of keys between his fingers curiously and pockets those too, just in case.
The halls are quiet. Harry walks leisurely through the ship, his bare feet quiet in the floorboards save for the soft click of claws he doesn’t feel safe enough to retract yet. He enters what must be the captain’s cabin and scowls at the maps scattered with circles and crosses, recognising his home town beneath a big black X. He eyes the various metal devices left scattered upon the tables, varying from massive bear traps to spiked handcuffs designed to prevent shifting. Definitely hunters, then.
There are also treasures, though, and Harry leaves them be for now as he heads below deck. There’s magic in the air, rancid and almost strangling him with its intensity. Harry tugs his shirt up to cover his face, the wet material only helping a little.
The rooms are empty, but the one on the end is locked. Harry is suspicious, but too old not to suspect a trap. He heads to the adjacent room and steps silently along the wall, running his fingers along the wood. He sings again, distorting his voice to fill the air. Its magic goes a little berserk without its usual water medium, ricocheting through the rooms until it sounds like it’s coming from everywhere. He uses the distraction to run his claws in a smooth oval into the wall connecting the locked room, still singing even as he backs up and rushes forward to crash into the wall with all his weight.
The wood breaks instantly and caves in. Harry barely uses a second to take in the room’s occupants and immediately goes for the pirate spinning around with a gun. He stabs her before she has the chance to use it, the momentum pinning his knife into the floor beneath her. He sighs and sits back in a squat as her breath gurgles in her chest.
He’s being watched.
Grey eyes glimmer in the low light, brighter than the metal mask on the man’s face. There’s a set of spiked handcuffs on his wrists and ankles, and chains keep him shackled to a solid steel pillar. Harry tilts his head and stands up, evaluating. When the man simply stares at him, he takes careful steps closer. The man’s mask tilts up and he can see small air vents over the nose, but the mouth is sealed entirely.
That leaves two likely options. Either the man is also a siren, and has his mouth blocked so he can’t aggravate the men with screams, or he’s a mermaid being prevented from tempting the crew to drown. While Harry can only do such magic below water, mermaids can hypnotise anywhere. Both options aren’t great for Harry, but he’d like to think if their roles were reversed then someone would help him.
“I think I might have a key for that,” he says, fishing the keys out of his pocket. “I’ll get you out, and you don’t try to fight or kill me. Deal?”
Flinty eyes bore into him, bright with defiance even though the arms beside them are gaunt, but eventually he nods his agreement. Harry flicks through the keys and attempts the few that are similar in size to the lock, and eventually a key turns. He unlocks it with some effort, pausing to let the main rub the circulation back into his arms, then unlocks the shackles on his ankles. The man tucks into himself, arms wrapping around bony legs, his gaze never leaving Harry.
Harry waits for him to undo the mask, but the man’s hands seem locked into position. “Can I take that thing off?” he asks quietly.
The man considers this over a long pause, eventually nodding once.
Harry moves closer and reaches around for the chainmail straps around the skull before he slowly pulls the mask off. He’s disgusted to see a saliva-coated fat metal rod protruding from the mouth region, clearly meant to keep the jaw open and mouth full. Not impossible to work around, but definitely not a pleasant thing to experience.
“I think I hate this more than the guns,” he says, looking up to a face that’s breathtakingly beautiful. “Mermaid, then,” he says aloud, dumping the mask behind him. “Sorry to say this face isn’t even my ugly one,” he says lightly.
The mermaid licks his dry lips and swallows a few times. Harry runs through the ship’s layout and wonders if he’ll need to get food and water before he speaks. “Siren,” he says, his voice hoarse. Harry nods and he continues, “Too bad I can’t seduce you into killing yourself.”
Harry is almost offended. “Hey! I’m helping you out, aren’t I?” He steps backward to give him some space. “And I didn’t even see your face before doing it.”
The silence prompts Harry to look up. The mermaid is watching him thoughtfully, some of the murderous intent diminishing. “You are,” he murmurs. His face darkens. “You killed them all.”
Harry sighs through his nose and shuffles back up. “I presume you mean before you could. I didn’t know you were being held hostage.”
The mermaid scoffs. “Blaise told you so.”
“Blaise?” Harry frowns, walking backwards towards the door. “Ah, the fish. He’s about as polite as you are.” Harry turns and shrugs. “They were a hassle; didn’t think you’d want me to leave some for you to kill. I just had a bad feeling and came to investigate, and steal some valuables. Sorry that doesn’t suit your rescue, princess.”
He leaves the mermaid glaring at his back and makes his way through the rooms, grabbing a few sacks and loading them with the most expensive items. The mermaid follows him at a distance, watchful but not getting in his way so Harry ignores him.
By the time he’s loaded several sacks with treasures that won’t be destroyed by water, the sky is pink with sunset and much of the storm has moved on. He uses his claws to score deep cuts in the ship’s outer wall. He dives neatly into the ocean, shifting smoothly into siren form to grab the net and break the surface again. He crawls up the ship with the net, securing each end around his cuts to anchor the net. The mermaid is watching him curiously as he begins hauling the treasure sacs overboard to land in the net. “Your crew,” he says curtly. “Are they human?” his mouth sneers over the word.
“About half,” Harry answers honestly. Touchy asshole or not, they both know he won’t last too well alone so weakened from starvation and torture, especially with more hunter boats out there. “They’re good humans though. Skilled enough not to bother with guns, for one.”
The mermaid is still staring at him, distrustful but his head held high. Enough common sense to know he needs help, but stubborn enough not to ask for it.
Harry doesn’t bother to hide the roll of his eyes. “As long as you don’t hurt them, or intend to hurt them, they’d welcome you. The captain saved me when my home was razed for slaves. We have a couple of elves, a selkie, an oracle, a few elemental mages and vampires. A werewolf and a gargoyle, too. I know,” he adds at the mermaid’s dubious look, “dumb with the whole stone thing on a ship, but he’s loyal to the captain and doesn’t trust her to be safe without him.”
Harry chucks another few bags over, letting their splashes fill the silence as they hit the water and sink into the net. After the last bag he ties the ends of the net together and tightens it until there are no gaps.
When he’s finished he looks back at the mermaid, who still won’t quit staring at him. “Up to you. If you want to join us, even if just while you recover, great. If not, also great. If you try to kill a single member of my crew, I will destroy you.”
That said, Harry promptly dives into the water and grabs the net. It drags behind him and slows him down, but Harry ignores the lethargy whispering into his muscles and keeps swimming. The water around him stirs before the marlin appears, closely followed by the mermaid. Judging their distance from the hunter ship to be good enough, Harry reaches for his necklace and runs his fingers over the beads until he feels the engraved symbol for fire. He bites into the bead, trusting Seamus will get the message to joyfully set the ship on fire.
The ocean currents shift with a message. “My name is Draco,” the mermaid says. Harry faces him and sees the same beautiful face framed with soft silver hair that curls with the water, gaunt body transitioning from pale skin to a long, glittering blue tail. He’s death dressed as a rose, and Harry ignores the flicker of curious attraction.
“Harry,” he replies, refusing to be self-conscious of his eel’s tail and needle-sharp teeth set beneath slit yellow eyes. “Welcome to the crew, I suppose.”