It was high noon on the open seas. A gull called out overhead and the man cleaning the fish on deck gave it a filthy look before bending over his catch protectively. This lucky catch was going to feed the crew of the Lucky Dubloon for dinner, not get snatched away by some scavenger bird! Ignoring him, the bird alighted on the rail a few paces away and squawked again as it cocked its head to the side, considering the fish. The pirate looked up and frowned darkly at the creature. He swung his arm back and then forward, shouting as he lobbed his fish cleaning knife towards the gull. "Git off me ship, ye blasted bird, or I'll have ye for a hat!"

The knife splashed harmlessly into the ocean as the bird took flight, screeching in indignation as it abandoned the vessel. And good riddance too, the pirate thought, scratching the side of his beard with fish gut fingers and frowning at the waste of a good knife. He'd have to go down to the galley for more, and the captain would have something to say about the waste as well. "Bloody bird, jus' wish me aim's was better..."

"It be a shame we won't be eatin' bird tonight, mosta it be stringy out here though me thinks."
The pirate scrambled to his feet and turned to face the man who had just climbed the ladder up to deck.
"Cap'n!"
The captain nodded to the first pirate. "Aye, Burt. How that fish o' yours be comin'?"
Burt scratched his head this time, still with messy fingers, and opened his mouth to explain. However, no words came out, his eyes locked on something over his captain's right shoulder as his mouth opened and closed silently.
"What ye be starin' at, mate?" The captain started to turn, but an arm locked around his waist as somebody pressed against him from behind, holding him still as something hard poked his adam's apple. Burt pointed, still at a loss for words, and a woman's laugh rang out.
"Cat got 'is tongue, 'ey?"



"Arr lass, this be my ship! What ye be doin' on board?"
She laughed again, tightening her grip around the captain's waist and rising to her tiptoes to speak teasingly over his shoulder.
"That's where ye be wrong. This 'ere beauty be me ship. An' don' ye go runnin' off for help, ye hear?"
That last bit was directed towards Burt, who'd stepped towards the hatch. He froze, both eyes locked on the woman. The captain spoke again, keeping his tone carefully calm.
"Look, lass, if it be gold ye be wantin', we can make an...arrangement, aye? There be no need to get violent."
"Ye still don' understand." She sighed shortly and released the captain, who immediately spun away, reaching for the pistol tucked into his belt. With an almost bored expression, the woman whipped her magic wand towards him and the captain flew backwards, slamming into the mast with a crack, his pistol tumbling helplessly into the ocean.

She stepped towards the captain, sparing only a glance for Burt, who was shaking with fear. Her wand was pointed at the captain's throat, even as he struggled to orient himself.
"I be commandeering this 'ere vessel, an' there ain't be nothin' ye can be doin' to stop me."
The captain managed to collect enough of his wits to reply.
"Vile sorceress!" He spat on the deck next to him as the witch laughed again, the tip of her wand not straying from its mark. Further angered by the laugh, the captain spoke again. "Ye can' be doin' this to me! Ye know who me be? Captain James Reynolds, o' the Lucky Dubloon!"
"Aye, an' ye know who I be? Lady Jane Hawkeye. Now shut ye grog hole 'fore I be shuttin' it for ye."

She flicked her wand, and ropes descended from the rigging to bind the captain firmly to the mast. Wisely, the captain shut up, but Burt seemed to have finally found his voice, albeit a trembling, uncertain voice.
"What ye be doin' to us? The crew?"
Lady Jane turned to him, tapping her wand against her chin thoughtfully. "Dunnae, what ye be thinkin'?"
"Ye could be lettin' us go?" Burt supplied helpfully, a hopeful smile touching his mouth.
She pondered that for a few long moments. "Maybe. But me be thinkin' there be more profit in the sellin' of ye to slavers, though."
The hope fled Burt's face as quickly as it had appeared. As the magically-directed ropes snaked up to bind his hands and feet, he found himself regretting throwing his only knife at that bloody stupid bird.

_________________
Karen Bonoa - Ravenclaw Alumni
Madeline Ingleman - 2nd Year Hufflepuff
Niven McLaren - 1st Year Slytherin
Sam McKinnon - 6th Year Ravenclaw

Jabari Nwosu * Joshua Tannerman * Lenora Hollings * Lillian Stewart * Maria Bonoa

Another day, another ship. This one sailed under an unfamiliar flag, but that didn't discourage Lady Jane – that size of vessel wouldn't be manned by more than a handful of crew. They were easy pickings, whoever they were. Two of the crew were on deck, and she examined them for clues as to what she was dealing with here.



One was the usual brute – young, yes, but strong enough to hold his own in a brawl, judging from the way he handled the cannon he was cleaning. She'd need to keep her distance from him. The other was more intriguing – she moved in for a closer look.



It was a woman with dark hair and pale skin, cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the sea breeze. Her clothes were better made than those of the man, and a curved sword was belted across her hips. That told her two things: first, the woman was higher in rank on this ship than the man, and second, that this crew had a decent bit of gold to their names. Excellent.

She backed off as she formed her plan of attack in her mind. Taking out the man first would alert the woman, and as reluctant as Lady Jane was to get in a fight with the muscled pirate, that sword was also a force to be reckoned with. It wouldn't do much good if she got in close from behind, though, and took out the man before focusing her attention on the woman. She settled behind a few barrels, and took a few moments to prepare herself – mentally and physically – for the attack, before she stepped out, drawing her wand from her belt in a fluid movement as she moved into position behind the woman.

Of course, the man chose that moment to turn, spotting he instantly. He cried the alarm and reached for a weapon at his belt; her cover blown, Lady Jane sent a bolt of force towards his hand. He cried out again, this time in pain and anger, and dodged behind the cannon. Not a threat for the moment – right now, the woman turning in front of her was more important. Her eyes on the sword buckled on the woman's left hip, Lady Jane didn't see the woman's left hand draw the wand tucked into the other side of her belt until it was almost too late.

She dodged back behind the barrels as the attack spell hit the door to the cabin behind her. A wizard ship! Curse her bad luck! Baring her teeth, she whipped her wand through a shielding charm as she jumped away from the barrels, firing a curse towards the other witch as she ran along the deck. As there were no cries of pain, she assumed they were counterspelled – not that she was going to look back to check. As she moved towards the bow of the ship, she saw movement to her right side – the man, armed with a jagged plank of wood. More bad luck.
“Jon, stand down! She's mine.”
The woman's voice rang out clearly behind her, accented in a way that befitted the royal navy more than a pirate vessel. Still, it didn't matter how she spoke, what mattered was that the man – Jon, apparently – listened, backing off, though he kept his hands on the wood and his eyes on Lady Jane.

Some instinct in the back of her mind told her to dodge, and she did, jumping up onto the rail of the ship just as a hex splintered the crate ahead of her. She was out of room to run, but that didn't matter – only one leap until freedom.
“Stop, animage.” The woman's voice was cold behind her, and Lady Jane froze her leap, eyes widening. How did she know? Forcing her face to remain calm, a lightly mocking smirk adorning her lips, she turned, balancing easily on the rail of the ship as she faced the other witch.
“Ye gonna stop me?” she asked, her wand fixed on the other woman.
“Aye. I know a spell that can force an animage right back to human again. Ye wouldn't stand a chance.”
Lady Jane swallowed, not allowing the smirk to drop. She could still win this.
“What's your business on my ship?”
“Meant to commandeer it. I be re-thinkin' that plan, at the momen'.
The other witch laughed and twitched her wand – Lady Jane deflected it with a counterspell, then rolled to the right, coming up behind a crate and circling around, wand trained on the other witch.

“Ye got a name?” Amusement twisted the witch's lips, even as she turned to keep the other woman in her sight.
“It be Lady Jane Hawkeye, to ye.”
She laughed again. “Aye, Lady Jane Hawkeye, is it. Well, I'd bet my ship that's not actually ye real name, and I can tell ye right now that you're no lady.”
The smirk vanished, replaced by an angry frown as Lady Jane fired a hex – a nasty one, too – towards the other witch, who deflected it with a lazy flick of her wrist.
“Bit of a sore spot? Apologies. Call yourself what ye want, ain't nobody who cares out here.” Her eyes flicked out to the open ocean for a moment before refocusing on Lady Jane. “People call me Catherine. Catherine Miller, captain and leader of this company.”
“An' that be ye real name, then?” The smirk was back on Lady Jane's face as she circled Catherine, and was quickly mirrored on the other woman's face.
“Nay. But that's what ye'll call me.”

The circling had brought Lady Jane around full circle again, her back to the bow facing towards the cabin of the ship. The door to the interior of the cabin was ajar, the face of an old, grizzled man peering out at the fight. His eyes met Lady Jane's and he quickly withdrew into the cabin; she heard the sound of the door being securely barred. As if that was going to stop magic.



“Ye working with anyone?” Catherine spoke again, arching her brow as she asked the question.
“Nay, me work be done alone. It be easier that way.”
“Lonely.”
“I be managin' jus' fine.”
“There's room on my crew for an animage with your talents. Spywork, infiltration.”
“Aye?” Lady Jane sneered. “An' what I be gettin' for me work?”
“Fourth share of the loot.”
“After ye be gettin' yer cut, o' course.”
“Nay, an even fourth. Everyone's equal in my crew. Ye need to give your answer now, or it's over the side with ye.” Catherine jerked her head to the side, illustrating her point.

This was a big decision to make at wandpoint. Lady Jane hadn't always worked alone, of course, but she'd split with her last crew several years ago – irreconcilable differences, you know, the sort that always seem to end with someone's throat getting slit. But not hers, never hers. She had a point though, it was lonely out on the sea by herself. And an even fourth share of the take was nothing to disregard. What's the worst that could happen, it doesn't work out? She couldn't be watched all the time, if it wasn't working then she'd be gone, a bird in the night.

“Alrigh' then, ye got yerself an animage.” Despite the concession, both women continued to stand on guard, each wand trained upon the other, neither willing to lower the tip.
“Ye lower your wand, and we'll shake on it.” The hint of amusement was back on Catherine's lips.
“Ye firs',” Lady Jane countered, raising her eyebrows.
“Nay. My ship, my rules. Lower your wand, Lady Jane Hawkeye.”
Against her better judgment, she lowered the wand slowly, only stowing it back in her belt once Catherine did the same. The other woman stepped forward, extending her hand for a firm handshake.
“Welcome to the Red Rose Company.”

_________________
Karen Bonoa - Ravenclaw Alumni
Madeline Ingleman - 2nd Year Hufflepuff
Niven McLaren - 1st Year Slytherin
Sam McKinnon - 6th Year Ravenclaw

Jabari Nwosu * Joshua Tannerman * Lenora Hollings * Lillian Stewart * Maria Bonoa

Despite its cheerful name, the Blue Piper tavern was dimly lit, conversations conducted within rarely rising above a whisper. Small groups and furtive individuals huddled together at their own tables, drinks clutched in rough hands as words and coin alike were exchanged. The Red Rose Company sat at one such table, three men and two women. All except for the old man had wands tucked into their belts in addition to muggle weaponry - swords, knives, and, in the case of one darkly bearded man, a pistol - broadcasting a silent warning to any who would approach.

Jon leaned over the table, taking a long drink and wiping his mouth on the back of his hand before speaking in a low voice. "Ye gonna be introducin' us?" His eyes jerked between Catherine and the man with the dark beard.



"Aye," his captain responded. "Charles Letroix, he sought me out seeking to join our company. He brings unique talents, I couldn't say nay." A smile tugged at the corner of her mouth briefly, before she turned to Charles and indicated everybody around the table in turn. "Lady Jane Hawkeye, Jon Wilkens and Henry Henkes."
Charles nodded, his sharp eyes resting on each member of the crew in turn before he spoke, a thick French accent coloring his words. "I believe I will enjoy working with you."
Lady Jane leaned back in her chair, smirking silently at the words. Jon seemed similarly skeptical of the Frenchman, but hid it by taking another long drought of whatever was in his mug. Only the old man inclined his head towards the newcomer.

Catherine broke the silence after a few moments. "Now, ye be wonderin' why I brought ye here, instead of settin' sail like we'd planned." Not waiting for her crew to confirm or deny, she continued. "My contact caught up with me, and the shipment is here."
"Ye been goin' on about that shipment for awhile now, must be somethin' special." Henry raised an eyebrow as he considered the woman across the table.
"Aye," she replied, nodding. "We ain't selling this one, it's for us. Well, for ye, really. Say it's my thanks for serving in my crew."
This piqued everyone's interest, even Jon leaning in to watch as Catherine lifted a small wooden case onto the table and opened it, reaching inside. She drew out a small golden case, opening it with a flick of her finger to reveal a compass.



"If ye ever find yourself lost, this'll bring ye back. With one of these in your hand, and the desire in your heart, there's no power in the world - magic or mundane - that can keep ye from me."

_________________
Karen Bonoa - Ravenclaw Alumni
Madeline Ingleman - 2nd Year Hufflepuff
Niven McLaren - 1st Year Slytherin
Sam McKinnon - 6th Year Ravenclaw

Jabari Nwosu * Joshua Tannerman * Lenora Hollings * Lillian Stewart * Maria Bonoa

Thunder crashed as the summer storm moved over London. Somebody's car alarm wailed in the distance, only to be drowned out by the latest sharp clap from the heavens. Inside a spacious, well-off flat, a man prepared for bed.



His pajamas rustled as he sat on the edge of his bed, laying his wand carefully next to the bedside lamp. He opened his drawer and slipped the slim journal - his nightly ritual - inside, drawing out his second ritual. He fingers wrapped around the old compass, sliding over the smooth, aged metal as he searched for the clasp. With a quiet click, he unlatched the lid and opened the compass, eyebrows silently raising as he stepped over to the window. He repeated this every night, he knew where the needle should point - true north. This was a northerly direction, but not exact. Curious. Curious indeed.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Elsewhere in London, on the same night and during the same storm, a young woman - almost a girl, still - sat huddled under the single window in her shoebox of a flat. Her long hair hung around her face, hiding her expression as she looked at an object held in her hands.



Lightning flashed, illuminating the tiny room for a moment and reflecting off of the shiny silver compass held open in her delicate hands. As the following thunder rumbled through the room, she fumbled in her pockets and drew out a second, modern compass, holding them side by side. It hadn't been her imagination, the needle was pointing northwest rather than north. But why? Her brother would know, but she couldn't go back, not ever. Another burst of lightning lit the room as she clasped the objects tightly in her fists and curled into a ball, as if she could block out the sound of the storm.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Far to the north, the storm ravaging London was far away, but a different summer downpour was assaulting the train winding its way through the Scottish countryside. Spread-eagle across the top of one of the cars was a man, a worn rope strapping his waist to an exhaust outlet as he scrambled for purchase with his hands and feet.



In his left hand, he held a compass, old and tarnished. Even as his other limbs slipped across the smooth roof of the train car, he kept his eyes on the needle. As the train curved away to the west, needle swinging wildly towards the E, he let go with his right hand, reaching for the knife at his belt. His hand had barely touched the blade before the rope snapped, completing the task for him as he slid off the right side of the train, thudding heavily to the ground and rolling down the embankment away from the tracks. He came to rest in a puddle and stumbled to his feet, spitting out the filthy water that had found its way into his mouth, then consulted the compass, miraculously still clutched in his weathered hand. Just follow the arrow, it would all be over soon.

_________________
Karen Bonoa - Ravenclaw Alumni
Madeline Ingleman - 2nd Year Hufflepuff
Niven McLaren - 1st Year Slytherin
Sam McKinnon - 6th Year Ravenclaw

Jabari Nwosu * Joshua Tannerman * Lenora Hollings * Lillian Stewart * Maria Bonoa