[It's quite different, going from a comfortable cushiony seat on the Hogwarts Express to leaning up against a damp tree growing out of damp ground. It's a bit of a shock, in fact, and it takes Harry a few disoriented moments to scramble to his feet, Sirius' newly-delivered letter clutched in one hand, the other hovering over the wand in his back pocket. What had just happened? He hadn't been Apparated, had he? Isn't it meant to feel weird when that happens? He hadn't felt anything, he'd just been curled up and rereading the letter telling him Sirius was safe (and the bit that would let him go to Hogsmeade during fourth year) and now he's, well. Here. Wherever that is.
He isn't the only one, either. Harry is a bit reluctant to take his hand off his wand, but everyone around him looks just as bewildered as he feels.]
Er, what's just happened?
[It's a forest, he thinks at first, but it's hot here, and dark, and full of wild noises. More of a jungle, then? As far as he knows, there aren't any jungles in England. Even wizards would have trouble with that.]
We're meant to go downhill when we're lost, I think.
Tortuga
[He's in trouble, obviously. He'd been on the train back to the Dursleys, then in the forest, now he's here, no closer to getting home or having any idea what's happened, he's in trouble. But Harry has had more than a little practice in sneaking about, and once he's dirtied up his clothes and face a bit, it's not as obvious he's not from round here. And once he's begun blending in just a bit more, it gets a lot harder to remember that he's in trouble, versus realizing he's in a city with real pirates and that real pirates are probably better than another summer with the Dursleys.
With his unerring instinct for finding the worst places to be, he's found himself in the corner of a tavern hosting a sort of half-bar fight, it's very unenthusiastic and apart from dodging a bottle once or twice, Harry's mostly able to sit back and watch. He's grinning like a tourist, which likely makes him stand out again, and the glasses certainly aren't going to help him escape notice, but he can't bring himself to care.
It's after the fight has escalated and he's gone down an alley (unpleasantly squishy, he's trying not to let his imagination run away with him) that he finds actual trouble. Only one actual trouble though, and a bit drunk already, and although it's cheating, Harry's whispered Stupefy is still a good idea as the would-be mugger slumps over and almost immediately starts snoring.
Trouble is, he isn't the only one who saw that, but when he spots the observer, they look out of place too.]
Er. Hi. ...could you maybe not say anything about that?
Mirror Mirror
[It's oddly akin to the moment he'd discovered the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket when he knew he hadn't put it there. This time it's a mirror, only big enough to see his face in the spotted glass, and while Harry hasn't had the best of luck with mirrors, talking to one isn't the strangest thing he's even done that week.
Wisely, he waits to talk into it until he's found somewhere quieter and less populated, on the beach at the edge of the trees, perched on a fallen log.]
What d'you reckon, are we meant to be doing something here or something?
Harry Potter | OTA
[It's quite different, going from a comfortable cushiony seat on the Hogwarts Express to leaning up against a damp tree growing out of damp ground. It's a bit of a shock, in fact, and it takes Harry a few disoriented moments to scramble to his feet, Sirius' newly-delivered letter clutched in one hand, the other hovering over the wand in his back pocket. What had just happened? He hadn't been Apparated, had he? Isn't it meant to feel weird when that happens? He hadn't felt anything, he'd just been curled up and rereading the letter telling him Sirius was safe (and the bit that would let him go to Hogsmeade during fourth year) and now he's, well. Here. Wherever that is.
He isn't the only one, either. Harry is a bit reluctant to take his hand off his wand, but everyone around him looks just as bewildered as he feels.]
Er, what's just happened?
[It's a forest, he thinks at first, but it's hot here, and dark, and full of wild noises. More of a jungle, then? As far as he knows, there aren't any jungles in England. Even wizards would have trouble with that.]
We're meant to go downhill when we're lost, I think.
Tortuga
[He's in trouble, obviously. He'd been on the train back to the Dursleys, then in the forest, now he's here, no closer to getting home or having any idea what's happened, he's in trouble. But Harry has had more than a little practice in sneaking about, and once he's dirtied up his clothes and face a bit, it's not as obvious he's not from round here. And once he's begun blending in just a bit more, it gets a lot harder to remember that he's in trouble, versus realizing he's in a city with real pirates and that real pirates are
probablybetter than another summer with the Dursleys.With his unerring instinct for finding the worst places to be, he's found himself in the corner of a tavern hosting a sort of half-bar fight, it's very unenthusiastic and apart from dodging a bottle once or twice, Harry's mostly able to sit back and watch. He's grinning like a tourist, which likely makes him stand out again, and the glasses certainly aren't going to help him escape notice, but he can't bring himself to care.
It's after the fight has escalated and he's gone down an alley (unpleasantly squishy, he's trying not to let his imagination run away with him) that he finds actual trouble. Only one actual trouble though, and a bit drunk already, and although it's cheating, Harry's whispered Stupefy is still a good idea as the would-be mugger slumps over and almost immediately starts snoring.
Trouble is, he isn't the only one who saw that, but when he spots the observer, they look out of place too.]
Er. Hi. ...could you maybe not say anything about that?
Mirror Mirror
[It's oddly akin to the moment he'd discovered the Philosopher's Stone in his pocket when he knew he hadn't put it there. This time it's a mirror, only big enough to see his face in the spotted glass, and while Harry hasn't had the best of luck with mirrors, talking to one isn't the strangest thing he's even done that week.
Wisely, he waits to talk into it until he's found somewhere quieter and less populated, on the beach at the edge of the trees, perched on a fallen log.]
What d'you reckon, are we meant to be doing something here or something?