In Wes Elwin's thoughts, the words "Pirates of the Caribbean..." surged like crashing waves, instantly conjuring up a vivid image.
A pirate with a flamboyant posture, smoky eye makeup, and dressed in rockstar-like disheveled clothing.
That image could only be the one and only Captain Jack Sparrow—the legendary figure and undeniably the most dazzling star of the Pirates of the Caribbean saga.
Captain Jack Sparrow had spent his life chasing adventures, sailing fearlessly across turbulent seas, confronting danger and uncertainty without ever backing down.
"Could this world hold the key to purifying the vengeful spirits trapped in the Philosopher's Stone?"
After several bizarre cross-world travels, Wes had begun to realize that the mysterious panel—though it never gave quests or rewards—seemed to hint at ways to solve his current problems with each new world it revealed.
He wasn't planning to rush into things. After all, the school year hadn't ended yet, and it was unclear how long his journey to the Pirates of the Caribbean world might take.
He decided to wait until summer break before setting out.
And before departing, he knew he had to make adequate preparations.
Because when it came to seafaring, Wes was completely clueless.
He headed to the library, his gaze scanning the bookshelves. His fingers lightly brushed the spines of rare nautical volumes. He immersed himself in ancient maps and sailors' journals, as if trying to glimpse the secrets hidden in the depths of the sea.
Thanks to Wes resolving the basilisk incident early, Hogwarts had since been shrouded in a rare and peaceful calm. No strange occurrences had cropped up again.
However, Gilderoy Lockhart continued to stir up drama amidst the calm.
At first, some of his antics drew minor attention. But it didn't take long for people to realize they weren't boosting his popularity—instead, it was like pulling back a lavish curtain to reveal a flashy but hollow core beneath the surface.
When the last group of students reluctantly left Hogwarts, a lazy summer atmosphere settled in quietly.
And at that moment, Wes—full of anticipation—embarked on a brand-new adventure.
---
Darkness cloaked everything around him, as if the entire world had been dipped in ink.
A sea breeze drifted past, carrying the salty scent of the ocean. In the distance, waves crashed against the shore in a deep, rhythmic thrum—like an ancient sea ballad whispering the mysteries and might of the deep.
A bright moon hung high in the velvet-black sky, its silver light softly blanketing the rippling sea, as though the ocean wore a delicate silk veil.
"This is…" Wes squinted, carefully taking in his surroundings. "An island?"
He muttered to himself, both excited and nervous. In this vast ocean, every island could be the starting point of an adventure—each one like a star scattered across the sea, impossible to count.
"Let's figure out where I am first. Hopefully, this isn't a deserted island." Wes whispered, then cast the Levitation Charm.
His body gently rose into the air, floating silently like a nocturnal owl as he surveyed the land around him.
To the north of the island, a faint light flickered in the distance, barely visible through the night—like a lighthouse guiding lost travelers.
"I'll head there and gather information."
With a plan forming in his mind, Wes adjusted his direction and drifted toward the light.
When his feet touched solid ground again, the muddy path beneath them made him frown slightly.
Around him, crooked houses stood haphazardly, crammed side by side like forgotten toys tossed carelessly across a desolate land.
And then, at a nearby corner, Wes spotted several lifeless corpses strewn across the ground.
The corpses gave off a foul stench, the putrid odor hanging thick in the air.
'Definitely not a friendly place.' Wes thought to himself.
Taking a deep breath, he resolved to keep moving forward, toward the source of that distant light.
As he drew closer, he saw the light was coming from the window of a small wooden cabin.
Even before reaching the door, he was surrounded by a raucous din—cheers from drunken men, vulgar shouting, the clatter of fistfights, and even the occasional sharp crack of gunfire.
"Captain Hook." When Wes caught sight of the sign hanging crookedly above the ramshackle door, something clicked in his mind. He had a hunch about where he'd landed—this was a pirate den.
A hideout where sea raiders came to sell their loot, indulge in drink and pleasure, and evade the pursuit of the navy.
The corners of Wes's mouth curled into a sly smile. "Perfect. A place to gather intel."
Pirates like these spent their lives sailing the high seas, and were usually well-informed about the world's goings-on.
Wes was confident that these "hospitable" pirates could provide the answers he needed.
He reached out and gently pushed open the tavern door, deliberately letting it creak to draw attention.
Inside, card games, drinking contests, and flirtations with barmaids all came to a sudden halt. Every pirate turned to eye the newcomer.
"Evening, gentlemen." Wes strode in calmly under their curious, wary gazes.
The pirates began sizing him up.
"That robe he's wearing's probably worth a few dozen silver coins," one one-eyed pirate muttered first.
"Skin softer than a damn woman's," another grumbled with a note of disdain.
"Looks like some noble brat who ran away from home," a third pirate remarked confidently.
Several pirates stared at Wes like wolves spotting a fat lamb, their greedy eyes scanning every item on his body as if it were a priceless treasure.
But some among them remained cautious.
"We're far from the mainland. For someone to reach this place unharmed… he must be relying on something."
An old pirate, his face wrinkled and his gaze razor-sharp, spoke in a low voice.
"You never underestimate anyone who's survived the sea," another added, nodding slightly while studying Wes closely, as though searching for hidden clues.
"Especially someone who manages to stay that clean on a sea voyage," a sharp-eyed pirate chimed in, a meaningful smile tugging at the corner of his lips.
These seasoned pirates sensed that Wes was no ordinary visitor. They knew that on these ruthless waters, provoking the wrong person often led to disaster.
As for the fools with no such sense, to them, death was just another wave in the ocean—not worth making a fuss over.
Wes walked up to the bar. Despite the stains caked onto the tables and stools, he showed no trace of disgust. He sat down steadily and said in a calm voice, "I'm looking for someone."
The bartender—a burly man with a scarred face and a blank expression—glanced at Wes, then went back to wiping a glass as if he hadn't heard a thing.
"Ah, right. Almost forgot the rules," Wes said with a soft chuckle.
A gold coin appeared in his hand.
Under the tavern's dim lighting, the coin sparkled temptingly, like a star lighting up the room.
Dozens of greedy, hungry stares locked onto it—like wolves catching the scent of blood.
Wes acted as if he hadn't noticed any of it. Unbothered, he flipped the coin toward the bartender.
It spun through the air, tracing a golden arc before landing precisely in the man's rough palm.
With a single touch, the bartender knew—by weight and texture—it was real gold, pure and heavy.
°°°
Hungry for more chaps? Then check out our pătreon!
Link: Påtreon.com/BaphometFiction
I post 20 advanced chapters of this fanfic there.
If you do subscribe, please do so in the web patreon, not the ios app.