Harry chuckled when they called his name over the loudspeaker.
"Harry Hook."
They were so ignorant, assuming Captain James Hook was his father because toddler Harry had been holding a filched hook when the guards had descended on Tortuga to round up the last of the sea-faring villains.
It was true that Captain Hook had raised Harry, since the boy's real father was morally grey and had talked his way to freedom. And others frequently attributed Harry's crazy behavior to Hook; both pirate captains were rather mad and quite overdramatic.
But Captain Hook was fastidious, even after years on the Isle. His hook gleamed from frequent polishings, and his outfits were always dapper, tailored and stylish. In fact, he still wore his classic feathered hat, scarlet breeches and gilt-edged coat. But Harry dressed in a raggedy, piecemeal fashion; his clothes were a grungy mishmash of collected and pinched items, such as his black tricorn. Hook held himself in a proud manner, like a gentleman. Harry gesticulated jerkily, and there was a peculiar lurch in the way he walked—just like his father. Hook enunciated clearly, but despite his best efforts, he couldn't get Harry to do the same.
Plus, there was the matter of guyliner. Harry and his father both loved their guyliner.
And yet, Harry never corrected anyone who called him Hook's son. He was possessive of his hook, just like everyone expected someone with his surname to be. And why should he reveal what was technically the truth? As far as he was concerned, Captain Hook was his dad. Harry hadn't seen his biological father since he was two, but Hook had been there every day, teaching him how to lie, menace, fight and sail.
Besides, Harry Hook sounded better than Harry Sparrow.