Survival - Chapter 4

Harry got used to his newfound powers over the next few months. He did not know he was a wizard, specifically; he just knew that he had magical powers. He had stayed at the coal factory and no one ever came near it. It seemed the area was completely deserted. Harry was not interested as to why.

Harry still got cold at night, but when it rained – and this was the best part! - his clothes stayed dry and did not get cold. Harry thought it was way cool and had run around in the rain for hours. He had always dreaded and hated rain, but now he absolutely loved it. He still preferred it nice, though, because his new home always got wet. It was just him that didn't.

He had spent ages going around his new home, looking for anything useful. Apart from the coal, he had found an opening in the ground and had gone down into it. Unfortunately, it was just coal that was under there and nothing else useful to him.

His clothes stayed clean, but he noticed over time that the colour was fading away and the fabric was going thin and scrubby. He knew that the clothes were reacting as though they had been in a washing machine and that eventually he would have to steal more clothes. He had thought of not using the spell, but he was so used to doing it that he hated having dirty clothes now. Plus, he did it automatically without even thinking.

His appearance had changed some. His hair was long and, thanks to his magic, he did not have dreadlocks. He still had startling green eyes and wore no glasses. Harry had wished that he could see properly and, over time, his eyes had corrected themselves. It had not worked easily or fast; it had taken a while for it to happen.

However, magic or not, his life was not going to be easy, and he was going to realise that this very night. Harry heard footsteps coming and he raised his head and cocked it to the side curiously. People were coming. He frowned. This was the first time someone had come. He ran for his hidey-hole before closing it shut as slowly and quietly as he could.

Then he had to watch as several fifteen-year-olds - who looked like street rats - walked around his home and ate his food. Harry growled to himself. He wanted to go and stop them all. How dare they eat his food? That was all he had left in the world. Well, he did have money, but there was not much left; it would get him about one more month of food before it was gone.

He'd had enough when one of them put on his jumper - the jumper he had left for just in case he got cold.

"Hey! Get away from my stuff," said the eight-year-old. He would be nine in seven months but he did not know that.

"What you going to do about it, kid?" asked one of them mockingly.

"Get away. I swear you will regret it. And put my food down!" snapped Harry. He was so angry that he was surprised his magic had not reacted.

"Get off!" shrieked Harry when one of them actually lifted him up. Harry was upset. Why was his magic not protecting him from them like it did from the rain?

"Let's ju' fucking get outta ere," said one of the boys, looking around.

Harry sighed when he saw that they were leaving. That was the last thing on his mind a few seconds later, however, when he felt a stabbing pain through his side. His hands immediately sought out the problem and he swallowed thickly when he found it. The boy had stabbed him! The boy had actually wanted him dead. Harry fell to the ground; the last thing he saw was the boys taking what was left of his food before running for it.

Said boys would have been murderers that night if not for Harry's magic. His magic healed his wound slowly but surly though there was still a huge scar on his side. He should be thankful that none of the boy's had done anything more or he would have died. In fact, he should be glad his magic had been able to heal at all; nobody's magic in the history of the wizarding world had been able to heal a person's own wounds. Healing magic, as a rule, could not be used for ones own personal gain. Harry, however, seemed to have manipulated his own magic to do as it pleased, and while he was unconscious, too.

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Groaning, Harry woke up, then cried out when pain pulsed through his side. Only then did the memories of what happened come forth and he became angry at his magic for abandoning him when he needed it most.

He saw the knife the boy had used on him. Looking at it, he thought, "Maybe, just maybe, you can't always depend on magic. But how can I learn to fight when I don't have money? I don't have anyone to help me. Could I find someone to help me? Why would anyone want to help me? I'm just a homeless kid with no money and can't even read or write. Well, apart from my own name."

Harry did not move from his position on the floor; he was in too much pain to even want to, anyway. Realising he could have been hurt worse, he thought, "I need to find someone, no matter what the cost. I need to learn to fight, otherwise I'm doomed. Those boys only cared about themselves and will do anything for food and shelter. Just like me. But I would not have hurt someone else. I won't hurt anyone else. But, if they hurt me first I want to be able to fight back. I will fight back." Harry's thoughts began to boarder on obsession.

So he decided he would learn to fight. Or, perhaps, the right phrase was learn self defence. He just had no idea whom to ask or whom to go to. He doubted there was anyone homeless who would help him. But, he did have something he could give them… Could he risk giving the last of his money to someone? What about that boy? He had known where to hurt him… No, he would not risk that boy hurting him again. Those bastards would get what's coming to them if Harry ever saw them again.

Harry sighed. His mind was going a mile a minute but he decided to think on it later and get some sleep now. He was tired and grouchy and did he mention in a hell of a lot of pain? Somehow, the anger he felt at his magic was now completely gone. He had just realised that he was relying on his magic and he should not be. Not as much as he had. He smiled slightly, even though he was in pain, and fell into a disturbed sleep. He realised as he shivered slightly just how bad and evil the world really was.

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The next few days were murder. Harry was glad when the pain finally started fading. He began walking around the area at nighttime, hoping to find someone or something that could help him. He had no success until the nineteenth night when he spotted a beacon of fire. Shivering, he continued to walk along. "Maybe it's abandoned and I can get some warmth before I go back. It's too cold to stay out longer." It was Christmas time and the coldest part of the year. He was glad it did not snow much.

When he was closer to the fire he caught sight of something he had wanted to see for what felt like ages. Walking along, almost shaking in his worn away shoes, he just hoped and prayed that this would not be his last night alive. Gulping, he did not stop, even when the men stopped fighting when he got closer.

"What are you doing here, kid?" asked the first guy. He was Chinese and was pretty small for a normal adult. Harry thought all Chinese guys were, mostly anyway.

"Canyouteachmehowtodothat?" asked Harry, speaking really fast before he lost his nerve.

"What was that?" asked the other man. He was bigger than the Chinese guy and, looked normal to Harry.

"Can you teach me how to do that too?" asked Harry, looking ready to bolt and keeping his eye on the swords in the man's hand.

"Beat it, kid. I've got more to do that teach a kid who probably could not even lift the sword," said the older one.

Harry proved to them just how wrong they were when he took the sword and held it up to the man's neck within seconds. Even Harry was shocked that he was able to actually do it. However, his hands were slippery and sweaty from being so scared of going over there and the sword slipped from his fingers.

"Well, I can lift the sword. Changed your mind yet?" asked Harry, not letting his embarrassment show at having dropped the sword.

"What are you doing out at this time anyway?" said the other one suspiciously.

"I don't have a home to go to, apart from one I make. People are horrible on the streets and I just want to protect myself," said Harry, exhausted. He had not thought anyone would have actually helped him, but it still made him feel sad and weak anyway that they had said no.

"Fine, kid. We will teach you. Complain once, though, and you're on your way out," said the older guy.

"Yes, sir," said Harry and blinked. Where had that come from? Probably from all the times Uncle Vernon had drilled into his head to respect his superiors. He would need to see about that. He was not going to always be that respectful. No way on hell was he! Fuck superiors and fuck his Uncle! He could drown in a puddle for all he cared.

So that's how it happened that for the next half a year he learned how to swordfight. He learned so quickly that he was beating his two teachers within those six months.

"I'm glad I took you on. Now you have learned all I can teach you. It's time for you to get a name and to learn daggers before we move on to hand-to-hand fighting," said the Chinese guy, who Harry had eventually found was known as Wang.

"A name, sir?" asked Harry. He had been determined not to call them that but they had earned his respect. He had realised that calling someone "sir" was an act of respect and not an acknowledgment of their superiority.

"Yes, a name that you will be known as. Everyone will know your name as the best swordsman in the world. Your new name will also be engraved onto your sword," said the man, sitting down on the chair that Harry had made for him. Wang knew about his magic and thought it was great. The other man that had been there that day was named Kevin; he was English and just someone that Wang fought.

"Have you decided? Or am I to?" asked Harry curiously.

"I have decided," said Wang. "I have two names for you."

"And they are?" asked Harry, still curious.

"The first one is Abeo. It means to digress, change, vanish, or disappear. It is in honour of your gift of magic. The other one is Aberro. It means to wander, deviate, or escape. You are good at that," said Wang.

Wang had watched as Harry escaped and disappeared from the Child Services teams. Three of them had tried to take Harry to an orphanage and none of them had ever gotten him. Thankfully, they did not know where Harry stayed or he would have been caught and put in an orphanage. Of course, Wang knew that Harry would have just escaped again.

"Thank you, Wang. They are great names and I will have them always," said Harry.

Harry knew he only had a year with Wang. Wang could not stay in England forever and the man would soon be leaving for his own country. It made Harry's heart clench to think that the very first person to be nice to him was leaving in another six months; Harry did not want to think of going back to his lonely life. Wang had taught him that, even though some were, not every human was horrible.

Wang had also taught him that he could help other people on the streets and Harry was determined to do just that…