Davy was a man on a mission. He'd put on his good coat, and his good top hat and was marching down to the harbour. He had asked around, he had thought it through and what he needed now was a man who could do what he couldn't. And from everything he had heard that man was Harry Longbottom. Or at least, Harry Longbottom was good enough. 

He had been given very specific instructions on how to get to the yard. For years he had lived in Whitby, and for years he had mostly only travelled between his home, the store, the pub and the post office. Looking around the yard, he could really only hope he'd been given the right location.

"Mr. Harry Longbottom? I'm looking for a Mr. Harry Longbottom?" As he called out, trying not to be so loud that he disturbed the whole neighbourhood, he wondered suddenly if someone had pulled a prank on him.