Isle of the Lost, 2013
Harry emptied his pockets of everything that he had nicked from the washed-up seadog, laying the loot out on the kitchen table for Captain Hook to examine. The sophisticated old pirate had a much better eye for value than Harry, so he usually sorted whatever Harry had stolen, first taking the best for himself, and then grouping the rest by how much he thought they should fetch at market.
After a brief look over, Hook dismissed most of this haul as junk. The compass interested him for a bit, but he tossed it aside once he realized it didn't work.
"What, nothing's good enough for you, Pa?" Harry drawled.
Hook glared at the boy—his newly-minted teenager was developing quite the cheeky mouth. "What have I told you about enunciating?" he scolded.
Harry just rolled his eyes, knowing that it would annoy Hook, and when Hook was annoyed, he started to compare Harry to…
"Disrespectful, just like your father!" the captain exclaimed, throwing up his hands in exasperation. Harry grinned, knowing his surrogate father was all bluff and bluster, and that grin only infuriated Hook more. "Don't get cheeky with me, boy!" he scolded loudly. Then he puffed himself up, gathering his energy for a rant. Harry sat back to listen.
The boy couldn't remember ever seeing his biological father, so most of what he knew came from Captain Hook's tangents, and the local "Legend of Jack Sparrow." Sometimes, Harry thought that Hook ranted about his similarities to Sparrow so he could tell his adopted son about his heritage without having a heart-to-heart conversation.
But the one time Harry had brought up his theory, Hook had denied vehemently.