Btw, I've shifted the dates in this to match my other story. (Lol I'm writing an AU of my AU) it doesn't really matter too much though.
Chapter 2
Aged 7:
Mitch stared in astonishment at the wallet clutched in Harry's tiny hands. The black-haired boy grinned at him, stolen glasses dangling off his ears.
"How the fuck did you get that?"
The boy's smile widened.
"There was a secret pocket in his jacket," he announced. "But I still got it."
"But… I… how?"
"Were easy," giggled Harry. "Just flew into my hand!"
He laughed again, and Mitch rolled his eyes. He couldn't get a straight answer out of him, but that boy had the nimblest fingers any of them had ever seen. Even Mandy was impressed with him. Mitch smiled as Harry efficiently emptied the wallet of a considerable amount of money, and dumped it in a nearby dustbin, handing the notes over to Mitch.
"Well done," he praised. "Mandy might let us get you some shoes with this."
Harry scowled, looking down at his bare feet.
"Don't like shoes," he said petulantly. "No shoes. Can't I have a shirt?"
He fingered his ragged t-shirt, and Mitch nodded.
"I reckon we can all have new shirts with this lot. Maybe even some jackets."
"That'd be good," he said dreamily. "'S getting cold."
"C'mon kid," said Mitch, putting an arm around Harry's bony shoulders. "Sun's setting. Time to get back."
"D'you think Rosita will make her soup tonight?" asked Harry excitedly.
"Dunno," said Mitch. "There's no need to get so excited, it's only tinned stuff."
"Yeah, but remember when Mandy tried to cook it, but burned it? We still had to eat it coz we had nuffin' else, but it tasted like piss…"
"Everything Mandy cooks tastes like crap."
"Yeah, but 'least most of that's edible…"
They reached their base, an abandoned apartment block, and pushed open the kicked-in door.
"Mandy?" called Mitch. "Rosita?"
"Rosita!" called Harry. "¿Estás aquí?"
A golden skinned, dark haired girl poked her head around the corner, smiling warmly.
"Harry, bebé. ¿Tuviste un buen día?"
"Sí. Tenemos cincuenta dólares fuera un chico…"
Mitch tuned out as the pair babbled away in Spanish. He had no idea how Harry had picked up the language. He had known Rosita since he ran away from the orphanage, and he still couldn't understand a word she was saying. She appeared to be having no more luck in learning English, but Harry had picked up both languages easily. He hung back and watched Harry follow Rosita back into the room they had set up their blankets. The door opened behind him, and he turned to see Mandy trudge in, rubbing her hands together.
"Bloody freezing out there," she remarked. "Just our fucking luck that winter's decided to arrive early."
"It's been cooling down all afternoon. Harry was shivering towards the end, but he was trying to cover it up."
"The kid's tough. He'll be fine."
"Hm. He lifted another wallet today. You know, one of the impossible ones."
"Again? Well… make sure he's rewarded."
"Mandy?"
"What is it?"
"Do you ever think that we did the wrong thing? Maybe we should have just handed him in when we found him…"
"And get packed into homes ourselves?"
"You were sixteen, they wouldn't have given you much trouble."
"They would have just chucked him in an orphanage like they did to you? Why are you even asking this?"
"Well, he's… he's bloody clever, Mandy. He would do well in school. He learns things so quickly…"
"So do most kids."
"He likes to ask questions…"
"I repeat, so do most kids."
"He speaks two languages!"
"Lots of people speak Spanish in New York. He was just… exposed to it when he was little."
"But there's more! Earlier, he were scamming some tourists, and I swear he was speaking fucking French."
"How would you know what French sounds like?"
"He told me they were from France. And it didn't sound like Spanish.
"But where the hell would he learn French?"
"Beats me. But…"
"Mitch," interrupted Mandy. "He's already seven. He's used to being free, roaming the streets. How do you think he'd react if you stuck him in a classroom? The poor kid would probably crap himself, and jump out a window to get away."
"But…"
"Mitch," she interrupted again. "How old are you?"
He frowned. "What year is it?"
"1996."
She watched him doing the maths. He had to think about it for a while.
"I'm fourteen. Maybe fifteen… I'm not sure."
"Exactly. You're still a kid, so lighten up. Let me be the adult."
XXX
Aged 8:
"Harry!"
The scream tore through the air. Mitch turned to see Jack, a boy about Harry's age reach out to try to catch the black-haired boy…
He missed, and Harry fell. Mitch yelled too, scrambling to the edge of the roof to watch Harry plummet three stories, his heart in his mouth.
He bounced.
For a moment, Mitch couldn't believe his eyes. Harry was bouncing down the pavement, laughing in joy and exhilaration. Eventually he rolled to his feet, and bowed to Mitch and Jack.
"I give you… Harry!" he cried. "Bones of rubber, and soles of steel!"
"You idiot!" yelled Mitch back. "You complete and utter…"
By the end of his speech, both of the younger boys had learned some interesting new words.
XXX
Aged 9:
"It's over, kid," said the policeman, tossing his cap onto the table top. "We've rounded up all your little friends. They're being distributed into care homes as we speak. Now I want you to tell me, where's the money?"
Harry just stared at him, his eyes narrowed in deadly anger. For a moment the older man was scared, but he quickly scoffed at the notion. This was just a child, after all.
"Come on, we know you had it and we know you hid it. You chose the wrong person to rob, kid. Now your friends are paying the price…"
Harry's temper snapped.
He felt his anger boil beneath his skin, and for a moment all he could feel was power. It radiated from him, and suddenly the policeman was flying backwards, hitting the wall with a thud. He crumpled to the floor, and Harry didn't stop to see if he was alive or dead. The door sprung off its hinges when he approached, and the people milling around in the corridor cried out in shock.
"Hey, stop that kid!"
Harry ran, out of a nearby window onto the street. He didn't stop.
He was on his own now.