Chapter Text
Ten years before The Curse of the Black Pearl
Hermione Granger was not a happy witch – to put it mildly. She was stuck in the 1700's on a godforsaken ship with a godforsaken crew, who were governed by a godforsaken captain and his godforsaken first mate.
She sat on the slimy, grimy floor. She tucked her knees up against her chest. She closed her eyes and leaned back, placing her head against the iron bars. She was stuck in an archaic jail cell – the brig as it was once called.
Time was fickle, and confusing.
It fascinated her to no end, though. Ever since her third year, she was curious about it.
After she graduated from Hogwarts, she applied for a position within the Department of Mysteries. Because she was a war hero, had passed her NEWTS with flying colors, and many of her professors gave her glowing recommendations, the Department of Mysteries hired her.
That was very rare in and of itself. Yet she was extremely grateful and wouldn't trade it for the world – except for maybe right now.
Rubbish! Bollocks! She thought angrily.
She had to figure out a way to get back to her own time and fast!
The man the crew called Jack Sparrow spoke gently, "A schilling for your thoughts, lass?"
She snapped her eyes open, turning to look at him. Frowning, she asked, "A schilling? Don't you mean a penny?"
It was his turn to frown. He looked at her intensely, "Where are ye from, lass?"
Before she could reply, he continued, "Let me wager: it's none of my bloody business."
While she glared at him, he laughed lightly. He mimicked her actions; he leaned back, lowered his hat, and closed eyes.
—ooOoo—
Earlier
When Hermione crawled on their ship, she was immediately scorned, whistled at, jeered and leered at, and ultimately branded a witch by all of them. It didn't help the situation when she literally refused to talk to any of them.
A rainstorm started to brew.
Lovely, Hermione thought, looking up at the sky. Nightfall was coming, too. I'm already wet and cold; just what the hell I need. More rain! Rubbish!
One of them threatened to kill her, of course. He was tall, bald, broad shouldered, and well-built. He had a gold hoop earring in his left ear, and several gold teeth. He wore a long red jacket. He also wore a chain with a gold medallion around his neck.
Curious, she thought.
He grabbed her roughly by the hand, pulling her against him. He sneered at her, saying, "I'm going to gouge your pretty little eyes out and slice your pretty little cheek open."
As he rested his sword against her neck, she kneed him in the balls with her right knee. With her right hand, she took his left hand and twisted roughly until it cracked. He screamed in utter agony.
The clouds became darker, the sun faded, and night was nigh approaching. Thunder clapped in the distance.
With her left palm, she punched him in the center of his chest, knocking the breath right out of him. He stumbled backwards. The pirate tried to take a swing at her with his sword. She took that opportunity to throw a roundhouse kick at said hand. The sword flew out of his hand, sliding and stopping at the feet of Pintel and Ragetti.
They looked down at the sword, back up at each other, and then back at the fight scene in the front of them. Their jaws dropped open.
Hermione took his left arm – the one with the cracked wrist. Stepping behind him quickly, she twisted his arm roughly until the bones snapped. She placed her two left finger tips at the base of his neck and shoulder until she found his pressure points.
She sneered at him, mocking him in turn, "Not if I snap your neck first, you dirty scum."
The pirates called out, "No!" "Don't kill him!"
Captain Jack Sparrow pipped up, "I wouldn't be doing that if I were you, lass."
Hermione glared at him, "Why?"
Suddenly, an older man appeared, striding towards her from the back of his so-called crew. He wore a black hat; a black feather was protruding from it. He held a black kitten in his arms while a monkey sat on his shoulder. All of the men parted for him, like Moses parted the Red Sea for his people.
Pintel and Ragetti acknowledged him, announcing his presence on deck, "Captain Barbossa."
He acknowledged them in return, "Pintel. Ragetti."
He turned to Hermione, "What's your name, missy?"
Rain started pouring and pounding heavily on the ship. Thunder clapped loudly once again. It was closer this time around.
"None of your bloody business," Hermione scoffed.
Barbossa replied, "You came out of the depths of the sea, crawled aboard my ship, engaged in combat with a member of my crew, and now are prepared to kill said member of my crew. I say that knowing your name is very well my business."
The storm escalated. A small hurricane formed near the ship; too near for Hermione's liking. The pirate tried to escape her grip, but Hermione saw red.
She let him go, but blocked his way. She was swift, chanting non-verbally. Raising her arm in front of her, she lifted the man more than three feet in the air.
The hurricane gained momentum. Lighting finally struck.
Hermione saw his face, his true form. There was no more flesh, only bones.
She screamed. Her spell broke.
Screeching, he landed on the deck unconsciously with a loud grunt, like a bag of bones.
She waved her hand, bringing the medallion toward her. Turning around, she faced a multitude of swords being pointed at her. The rain finally stopped. She dangled the medallion in front of her, like a swinging pendulum. The rain clouds parted, and the moon shown brightly in the night sky.
She held the medallion in her hand. All the pirates dropped their swords and jaws, too.
Flesh turned to bones.
She was doomed, damned, and cursed.
Same as them.
To be continued….