Chapter One (Or: Don't Send a Man to do a Boy's Job)

Nearly four years had passed since that fateful day when Harry James Potter ceased to be Harry and simply became James. James had grown—albeit not very much. He was small for his age—not that he knew for certain how old he was. The best guess was that he was nine or ten. His hair was longer—reaching just past his shoulders—and as messy as ever. Most of the time, it served to hide the jagged, lightning-bolt shaped scar on his forehead. His eyes were bright green—glowing with a quiet intelligence and promising mischief. They were rimmed by dark lashes that often got him mistaken for a girl. He was skinny—scrawny really and a little too short—but he was healthy for his rather stunted stature.

June was turning out to be surprisingly cool—cool enough that the nights were downright cold. It was nearing midnight, and James had to suppress a shiver as he leaned against a lamppost in his ripped, faded jeans and black long-sleeved shirt. He had a jacket in the car, but it was a rather bulky thing and James had decided to leave it behind so he could have the freedom to move.

A glance at his watch showed that it was two minutes til—James shrugged, pulling a cigarette from behind his ear and lighting it. From a distance, one would think the scene a little odd—after all how many times does a person see a ten-year-old leaning against a lamppost in the dead of night in a forsaken part of the city, smoking a fag? If anyone had been close enough to notice, they would have realized that there was something even more bizarre about the kid—he hadn't used anything more than a snap of his fingers to light the cigarette.

But that was normal for James. He could do all sorts of weird stuff like that. And he had long since come to accept his strange 'gift' for what it was—instead of trying to punish himself for his 'freakiness.'

James took a slow drag of his cigarette, his eyes flickering towards the dark shadows to either side of him. His best friend, Thomas, was lingering just out of sight in the darkness to his left. Dan was parked in a dark alley across the way. James could barely make out the gleam of the car's bumper reflecting the light from the street lamp.

Finally, at six minutes past the hour a car slowly drove up. It was bright red—but the paint was peeling in places. The man driving stared at James for a long time before finally getting out of the car.

"You're James?"

"The one and only." James grinned, flicking his cigarette on the ground and slowly approaching the man. "You got the money?"

The man straightened up, looking around suspiciously before going to the back of the car and popping the trunk. He took a few steps back and let James peek inside. Next to the spare tire and jack was a black duffel-bag. "You got the goods?"

"You'll get what you paid for. It's all there?" James flicked his gaze to the tall man, his eyes narrowing in suspicion at the slight catch in his throat when he answered.

"Of course it is. What do you take me for!?"

"I take you for a cheat." James said simply. "You're lying. How much are you short?"

The man seemed to swell at that—and James simply raised an eyebrow.

"Ten? Fifteen? Twenty?" James knew he had nailed it on the head—there was just something in the man's eyes that gave him away. "Twenty short? This won't do at all. The deal was a hundred even."

"What are you going to do about it!?" The man suddenly whipped out a gun, leveling it at James' chest. "I want the guns—now!"

James simply raised an eyebrow, smirking as his eyes landed on the gun. He could tell at a glance that it was indeed loaded. "And what do you think you're going to do with that?" As he emphasized the last word, the clip fell out of the bottom of the gun and the round that was in the chamber unloaded itself. The man stood frozen for a second, before dropping the gun and backing away. The cocking of a hammer sounded loud in the abandoned parking lot, and the man swung around to face Thomas as the boy strode out of the shadows—a revolver leveled evenly.

Thomas was thirteen—almost fourteen. He was much taller than James, though nearly as skinny. He had brown hair that framed his face, and brown eyes that were constantly narrowed in suspicion. At the moment, he was grinning slyly as he circled around the man, keeping the gun trained on him.

"Here's how this is gonna work." James explained calmly as Thomas reached into the trunk to grab the duffel-bag. "We're going to take the money. You have two weeks to get the rest of it—with an extra 10,000 as an apology for trying to rip us off."

The man didn't move, or even acknowledge James.

James fished a small card out of his pocket, flicking it at the man. It stuck to his forehead. "Call that number when you have the rest of it. Only then will you get the goods. If you don't have it in two weeks—well let's just say that we're keeping what we've already got for the trouble. Do you understand?"

The man nodded, picking the card off his head with trembling fingers.

"Good. Now get out of here."

Thomas came to stand by James as the man fled back to his car. The tires squealed as he peeled out, and after a few seconds the sounds of his car were distant.

"That was bloody wicked—the thing with the card! He nearly pissed himself." Thomas grinned at him, hoisting the duffel over his shoulder and nodding his head in the direction of the car. He stashed his revolver back in his jacket pocket. "Dan's going to love this."

"Bloody wanker." James muttered, shaking his hair out of his face. "You'd think they'd wise up and stop trying to rip us off." However, he couldn't stop the grin from exploding on his face. "It was pretty wicked, wasn't it?"

"The best one yet." Thomas agreed. Dan was leaning against the car when they got there, the trunk already popped. Thomas settled the duffel in the trunk and slipped into the back seat. James took his spot in the front seat as Dan slammed the trunk closed and climbed back into the driver's seat.

"What happened?"

"That fucking tosser tried to rip us off." James shrugged. "Told him he has two weeks to get the rest of the money plus some if he wants to do business."

"You should have seen him, Dan." Thomas bit out excitedly. "He's getting better with that sixth sense stuff—he unloaded the gun by just looking at it and stuck the card to the wanker's forehead. It was bril!"

Dan smiled, reaching over to ruffle James' hair. "Atta boy. Carl would be so proud of you."

James ducked his head at that, the grin sliding off his face. "If he would ever forgive me for screwing him up so bad."

"That wasn't your fault, kid." Dan parroted easily, like he always did when Carl was mentioned.

It had been a little less than a year since the accident—Carl had been walking down the street with James when he had been ploughed over by a drunk driver. He'd barely had enough time to push James out of the way before the SUV had bowled into him. The older man had been a mess, his head smashed in and his body damn near in pieces. James had lost it right then and there, and tried his hardest to heal his mentor.

When the paramedics had finally arrived, there was nothing visibly wrong with Carl. The puddle of blood on the sidewalk was a mystery to them, as was the sight of James sobbing over the older man. They had loaded Carl into the ambulance and brought the kid along.

At the hospital, the doctors were at a complete loss—Carl had severe trauma to his brain. However, there was no sign of a head injury—or any injury for that matter. But Carl was brain-damaged beyond repair. He had lost a good deal of his motor functions, couldn't talk, didn't recognize his surroundings—nothing. He was a drooling invalid.

James knew it was his fault—he had used his 'gift' to try and save Carl. But knowing Carl like he did, he was fairly certain the older man would rather be dead than spending the rest of his life in an institution, having to be hand fed and floating through with the same glazed look on his face day-after-day.

James visited him a lot—talked to him, told him how business was going. But still, Carl never showed any signs of recognizing the boy he damn near raised. Since then, Dan had taken over the business as well as James and Thomas.

"You got a fag?" James asked over his shoulder, nodding in thanks when Thomas passed him a cigarette. He lit it with a snap of his fingers and rolled down the window.

"You know, when Carl gets better he's going to kill me because I let you smoke." Dan commented.

James snorted in reply, but couldn't help a small smile. It was a running joke of sorts. Everyone knew that there was no way Carl was going to 'get better.' But it helped to pretend he would.

"Like you could stop him if you tried." Thomas muttered from the back seat. "He's a bloody stubborn little shit. We both know he does what he wants, when he wants."

Dan didn't say anything, but flashed James a smile.

"So. Jamie-boy! Any other new tricks you got up your sleeve?"

James rolled his eyes. "All new tricks are going to stay up my sleeve until I need to use them. Can't ruin the surprise, right?"

Thomas laughed. "I s'pose not. But warn me if it's something big—I don't want to be one of the wankers standing there with my mouth open."

"I wouldn't do that to you!"

"Sure you wouldn't—just like you wouldn't shrink my bloody underwear like the rest of the tossers you were trying to mess with."

"That was an accident!" James turned in his seat to glare at the older boy. "I already said 'sorry.' I was just trying to make them squirm—didn't realize you were caught in it as well. Didn't really need to find out that Dan was unaffected because he doesn't wear pants, either."

Dan shook his head. "You will never get me to complain about that—not with the way you had them shrieking."

James snorted, hiding his laughter with a cough. "It was funny as hell—to see a bunch of supposed crooks trying to be badass when they were crying like little girls."

Dan snorted, shaking his head as he pulled the car into a self-storage unit. He stopped in front of unit number 28 and jumped out of the car. A minute later, the stash of guns was locked safely inside and they were back on the road. The ride was silent the rest of the way back to the flat Dan owned.

"What we got going tomorrow?" James asked as Dan led the way up to the third floor. The duffel was hanging casually off his shoulder, and he shrugged as he unlocked the door. Lou grinned at them from the couch and flicked off the telly as they came in.

"We're not really doing anything tomorrow." Dan tossed the bag into a closet. "You two should go out and do some 'kid stuff.' Have some fun."

"This is fun." Both James and Thomas said, grinning at each other.

"That's not what I meant." Dan scowled, going to the kitchen and pouring himself a couple fingers of scotch. "You two need to take a break and do what normal kids do—go to the park or something, get hyped up on sugar."

James pouted, launching himself up to sit on the counter in the kitchen. "Whatsamatter? Not feeling guilty again, are you?"

"Not really. Just want you out of my hair for a day. So go raise hell somewhere else?" Dan's grin was nearly feral, and James snickered.

"You want some alone time? Why didn't you just say so? Oh, well. I can take a hint." James smirked at Lou, who just rolled his eyes and picked up a magazine. Thomas was distinctly red in the face, but didn't fidget much.

"Cheeky little shit." Dan ruffled his hair playfully, plopping down on the couch by Lou.

"Right. Well, if we're going to the zoo tomorrow we'd better get some sleep!" James jumped off the counter, motioning for Thomas to follow him into their room. "Behave, you two!"

Dan and Lou's only response was to flip him the bird.

"The zoo? Again?" Thomas groaned, flopping down on the bottom bunk bed in the room. It took a few minutes for James to respond, busy as he was searching for a clean pair of sleep pants in the piles of laundry on the floor. He finally found an acceptable pair and quickly changed. He slipped into the bathroom to take out his contacts—it had taken him months for Dan to find an optometrist that would actually prescribe contacts to someone James' age in exchange for an 'unrelated donation.' It was still turning out to be cheaper than glasses, however. Those blasted things had broken more times than he could count.

He had been obsessively taking care of them, he knew the risks if he didn't. He cleaned them carefully and stashed them in their little plastic container. Thomas was grumbling at him when he came back into the room.

"I like the zoo—besides. We can get in for free."

"You just like talking to the snakes." Thomas muttered. "It's funny though. People freak out when the snakes start doing all that crazy shit."

"Yep. What's the bet that I'll make some little kid cry tomorrow?"

"I'm not going to take that bet—I know you will if you want to." Thomas muttered, his eyes slipping closed as James flicked off the lights and climbed into the top bunk. "Night."

"Night."

It was probably the first truly hot day of the summer—James was sweating in his long sleeved shirt and jeans. He probably should have worn something a little cooler, but people always stared at him when they could see the scars on his arms. Thomas was wearing a white tank with a pair of khaki shorts—James glared at him when he didn't seem bothered by the heat at all.

"Should have thought of that before." Thomas smirked. James hit him in the shoulder, grudgingly nodding his head as they walked sedately around a group of excited five-year-olds. The zoo was very crowded, and James was tempted to just call it a day and go do something else.

But he couldn't without saying hi to the snakes—especially Andrèia. The Boa Constrictor was old—nearing fifty years from what James could tell. And she was huge.

But she was also lonely.

The coolness of the reptile house was a welcome relief from the blazing sun. James grinned at Thomas, leisurely walking around the different tanks and stopping to talk with a few snakes when there weren't a bunch of people huddled around. Finally, he made his way to Andrèia's tank—there were two boys standing there with their faces pressed to the glass. One of the boys was ginormous—a real chunker. The other was thin and twig-like.

"Make it move!" The fat, blonde demanded to a man that was damn near half the size of a car—in James' humble opinion at least. Him and Thomas held back while the fat man rapped on the glass. The Boa ignored him, simply lazing under the heat lamp.

"This is boring!" The pig-boy whined, grabbing his friend's arm and leading him to another tank.

"Sorry about them." James muttered to the snake as he approached, pleased when the Boa lifted her head so she was eye level with him.

"You're back, I see.Boa tarde.How is my humana pouco?"

"I'm doing good.How are you, Andrèia?"

"As well as can be with those idiotas banging on the glass all day."

"You'd think they'd show a little respect—after all, you could crush them like rats if you had a chance."

"Not that I would—they don't smell very appetizing."

James chuckled darkly, shooting Thomas a grin. The older boy was leaning with his back against the glass.

"DUDLEY! MR. DURSLEY! COME AND LOOK AT THIS SNAKE! YOU WON'T BELIEVE WHAT IT'S DOING!"

James leapt back from the glass as he was elbowed hard in the side by the enormous blonde boy. The skinny kid was right on his heels, both leaning against the glass. James growled, rubbing his ribs and glaring at the two boys—the glass was suddenly gone and they both tumbled over the railing and into the exhibit.

"Thanks, meu amigo!"

Andrèia was unfurling herself from the tank at a rapid pace, even as the two boys faltered to try and get away from her.

"That's bloody wicked." Thomas snorted in his ear, and James couldn't stop the laugh. That was when he noticed the panicking couple trying to push through the crowd of people stampeding out of the reptile house. The huge man was back, with a horse-faced woman. James shifted uncomfortably, turning to Thomas. "We should get out of here."

There was just something about the man and the woman that turned his stomach into a pit of writhing snakes.

"Mum!"

Before they could leave, James' attention was back on the two boys in the Boa tank. The glass had reappeared—they were pounding on it. He snorted again as the woman threw herself against the glass, trying to get to them.

"Dudders! Hang on! Mummy will get you out!"

"Let's go." Thomas tugged on his arm, but James stayed rooted to the spot—looking frantically between the shrieking woman and the large man, and to the vaguely familiar fat kid with blonde hair. He froze when the woman's cold blue eyes suddenly narrowed on him.

"You! You did this! You little freak, get them out! NOW!"

James flinched back from the woman as she advanced on him, and ducked out of her reach. Thomas was yelling something, but James suddenly found himself in the heavy grasp of the walrus-like man. The man turned purple, his jowls quivering as he started yelling.

"It is you! YOU LITTLE FREAK!"

There was spit flying in his face, and James couldn't get free. Several zoo workers were rushing in both doors of the reptile house, and James reacted instinctually. He kicked the large man in the balls, wrenching out of his grip and screaming. "PERVERT! DON'T TOUCH ME THERE!"

All motion stopped, except for James and Thomas—Thomas grabbed his arm again, and this time James didn't fight as they ran out of the reptile house. They didn't stop running until they were out of the zoo gates quite a ways down the street.

"What happened back there!?" Thomas gasped when they finally came to a stop. "I've never seen you freeze up like that! What's wrong!?"

James just shook his head, bending over and trying to force air into his lungs. "I knew them—those were the people I used to live with!"

"Oh." Thomas scowled. "Bloody hell—you should've said something. I would've shanked them."

James realized he was trembling, and rubbed his arms to try and get himself under control. "It doesn't matter—let's just… let's go somewhere else. . . back to the flat."

Thomas didn't say anything, didn't mention that James had to wipe his eyes with his sleeve and he didn't bring up that Dan had basically ordered them out for the day. One long trip on the tube and a short walk later they were slipping back into the flat.

Music was playing loudly in the kitchen, and they could hear a woman laughing in the living room.

"Fair warning! We're back. You have two minutes to make yourself decent if you aren't already!" Thomas yelled. They heard muffled cursing coming from the kitchen, and a second later Dan appeared around the corner. He was zipping up his pants, and wasn't wearing a shirt. There was lipstick smeared around his mouth and on his neck.

"What the bloody hell—I told you to get lost today!"

James didn't say anything, just stared at the ground.

"Er… We had a run in with some people today—those lunatics that gave Jamie all his scars." Thomas explained quietly.

"The Dursleys? Did they recognize you?"

James nodded, blinking his eyes rapidly to try and stop the tears. Lou came around the corner and knelt in front of him. "Did they hurt you?"

James shook his head, trying desperately to stop the tears from coming. It was humiliating. "I'm sorry! I-I-I'm being stupid. I shouldn't still be afraid of them after all this time!"

"Shush now." Lou pulled him into a huge bear hug, rubbing a hand up and down his back like he'd always done when James was upset. Thomas and Dan shifted awkwardly. "They hurt you a lot back then—and you were pretty helpless when they did. That's what you're going to remember. But you also have to remember that they can't hurt you anymore. If they do—well you don't want to know what me, Dan and Thomas will do to them."

James chuckled. "I know—I just—they… I know." He sniffed, wiping his eyes and nose with his sleeve.

"Jamie got the two boys though." Thomas supplied. "Set Andrèia on them, and then locked them in the Boa tank. It was fucking awesome!"

James snickered. "They were being prats." He sniffed again, wiping his nose on his sleeve. "You're not disappointed in me?"

"Of course not." Lou patted his back. Though the gesture was meant to be comforting, it still knocked some of James' breath away. "Those people – there's nothing right about what they did to you. You know what me and Dan do – and that still makes us sick."

Dan snorted, rolling his eyes. "Besides – it was their loss, our gain. We're more than happy to have you, you know."

James nodded. "Sorry we came back in the middle of the day like this – I just – thought you ought to know we saw them."

"That's good thinking – especially if they recognized you. You think they got anything else from seeing you?"

"No. Nothing they could use to track me." James supplied quietly. "We're gonna go get ice-cream and get hyped up on sugar, get out of your hair."

"Sure thing, kiddo. Stay out late!"

"We'll be back after ten." James grinned and slipped back out of the door, Thomas on his heels.

"What are we really gonna do?"

"We're really gonna get some ice-cream—then we're going to go to the carnival."

"About bloody time! The thing's been in town for a week!"

After the two boys had run themselves ragged after eating too many sweets and riding too many rides, they had dawdled around nowhere in particular until after midnight. Thomas went straight to bed when they got back to the flat—but long after the lights had been turned out James lay awake.

He couldn't sleep. Every time he tried to close his eyes, he would get a sinking feeling in his stomach that made him want to retch. The darkness of the room didn't usually bother him, but it seemed to be smothering him. Sighing, he climbed off the top bunk and silently padded out of the room.

Lou and Dan were talking in hushed voices in the kitchen, and neither of them noticed James come in.

"I'm not saying that, Dan! I'm just saying we should give him a break. He's still a bloody child—he doesn't need to be running around at all hours, making arms deals—"

"He's good at it!" Dan argued. "Really good! You know, things would have turned really nasty last night if he hadn't been there! The wanker was trying to fuck us over—and would have shot someone! The kid has a gift—it makes no sense not to use it!"

"I'm not saying forever! Just until things smooth over—you know what those Dursley bastards were like! He still has nightmares about them! Coming face-to-face with them ain't gonna do anything for him!"

Dan sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "You're right—and we can't have him out on the streets if he has another breakdown. But he's not going to like this at all."

"No I'm not!" James growled, frowning as he took a seat at the table.

"It's not polite to listen to other people's conversations." Dan quipped—but he wasn't really upset.

"You don't think I can handle it!? Just because of what happened today?"

"We're not saying that." Lou began cautiously. "I just think it would be a good idea for you to take some time and sort things out—you never even talk about what happened before you were with us."

James shifted, rubbing his arms underneath his shirt. "What's there to talk about? They were twisted lunatics."

"That's not the point." Lou sighed. "The point is, you're not over it yet—and you won't be so long as you keep clamming up whenever it comes up."

"I don't—"

"The cupboard!" Lou said pointedly, and James shut his mouth.

"That was below the belt."

"No. It wasn't. You got locked in a cupboard – it was an accident, but it happened. You didn't talk for three days, stopped eating and woke up screaming every night for two weeks. You are not over this."

James fidgeted. "Well, how do I get over it?"

"It just takes time—and eventually you're going to have to talk about it with someone."

"I talk about it with Carl."

"Carl can't understand what you're saying to him!"

James ducked his head, rubbing his forearm where the most prominent scars from his 'self-punishment' were. He pulled his sleeve up to glare at the uniform line of scars he had painstakingly carved himself. The two men were watching him carefully when he looked back up.

"Even when I used to punish myself, I'd still get punished again. It was never good enough the first time. Sometimes, I'd have to try again when it was all over, and sometimes I just had to 'practice.'"

"And how did that make you feel?" Lou asked, leaning forward and leaning his elbows on the table.

"I don't really remember feeling much of anything." James admitted quietly, dropping his gaze to somewhere around Lou's chin. "I was used to it. It still hurt, but it was just the way it was. I hate that more than anything now—looking down and knowing that I did that to myself. Especially because I know that it didn't really make a difference—he would punish me anyways. So I really didn't have to punish myself."

"But you didn't know that." Lou pointed out.

"Yeah. But I know it now."

There was silence at this, and James took a deep breath. He was watching the two older men carefully, noting the way they wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

"I can't talk about this stuff with you—it freaks you out." He stopped them before they tried to argue. "I'll know if you're lying to me!"

Lou slumped in his seat. "It bothers me—every time I think about it I just want to go shoot someone. And I never get less angry."

"It makes me sick." Dan added.

James shook his head frantically. "I can't do this—not if it bothers you. That's why it's so easy to talk to Carl now. Because he listens, but he doesn't get it—doesn't know what it means. So I can talk about it all and I don't have to worry about him freaking out over it."

"Do any of the nurses or doctors ever overhear you? You have to be careful about that."

"They don't." James shrugged. "I just have to concentrate really hard on them not noticing us and they don't. They don't even realize we're there until I go to leave."

"Hmm." Dan leaned back in his chair. "You know—there are more people like you out there. People that can do stuff like you can. There's rumors about it—says they hide in plain sight. I don't know if I believe half the crap I hear—there's rumors that there are people that can turn themselves into animals with just a thought—but some of the stuff they say they can do is just like what you do. Most of the people seem to have special sticks they use—kind of like wands."

James shrugged. "What's that got to do with me?"

"I don't know. Just thought you might want to know—there's been more and more rumors popping up lately. Some of them are obviously complete lies. But a lot of them I'm willing to believe after knowing you."

James grinned and said seriously. "You know, if there are a lot of people that can do the same things, I'm not really that special then."

"Of course you are – you're special to us. And most of those people don't hang around with us low-life's. They seem to be more 'society' types."

"Bloody ponces." Lou grumbled.

"What's your point?"

Dan shrugged. "Was just wondering if you wanted to check into it – might be interesting."

"That's not going to work." James said flatly.

"What?"

"I'm not that easy to distract."

"Fine! But you still aren't going to be out in the streets for a while!"

"Try and stop me! You need me out there!"

"Don't argue with us on this!" Lou buried his face in his hands. "We're only doing this because I don't want to see you get hurt! Please, Jamie! Please."

James snapped his mouth shut. "But—but what if you guys get hurt because I'm not there to help you?"

"We've been doing this since before you were born, kid." Lou grinned. "We'll be fine."

James hung his head. "Fine. But I'm not going to act like some bloody pansy and just waste all my time doing 'kid-stuff.'"

"Of course not." Dan was smirking in triumph. James pouted at him before going back to his room to sleep.