Chapter 10: Do You Believe in Magic?

Harry eagerly led Jason to his favorite rooftop on the outskirts of the Alley. It was a bit of a walk, but it was always worth it. And with full bellies, they had the energy to manage it and to spare.

Jason let Harry go up the fire escape first, then followed. The sun had nearly set by the time they reached the roof, which meant they might be waiting a while. But Harry had no trouble filling the silence with stories of his antics with Tim, some of which he hadn't told Jason before.

"—and then they cornered me and I was terrified and one of them tried to grab me, but then there was, like, this whooshing feeling and suddenly I was here on the roof! Tim thinks I might be a meta, and I think he might be right. I've made weird things happen before."

"What kind of weird things?" Jason asked, clearly choosing to ignore the fact that Harry had almost been snatched just days before they'd properly met.

"Well, I've teleported onto a roof once before when Dudley was chasing me. I got in so much trouble because it was the school roof. My teacher yelled at me, one of the fifth year teachers yelled at me, and then the principal yelled at me, and then Aunt Petunia shrieked at me and then—" Harry cut himself off.

"And then?" Jason prompted.

"And before that time, I turned a substitute teacher's wig blue. And one of Dudley's old sweaters shrank like, a lot, when Aunt Petunia tried to force me to wear it. It was so ugly, brown and orange and covered in pom-poms. I refused to wear it. And by shrank, I mean at first it would have been way too big, but when Aunt Petunia kept trying to force it on me, it kept getting smaller and smaller until it might have fit a doll, but nothing else." Harry tilted his head sideways. "That was the only time I didn't get punished for doing 'freaky stuff,' like Uncle Vernon called it."

"Hmm. Most meta powers aren't that random," Jason mused. "Have you ever tried to make stuff happen on purpose?"

Harry shook his head. "No, cuz Uncle Vernon always got mad when it happened. I didn't wanna get hit."

"Hmm." Jason leaned on Harry's shoulder. Harry sat up straighter. "I can think of at least two other things you did."

"Huh?"

"Last Halloween, when you were…out of it, I noticed you went a bit crazy at the color green. Every time you saw the sleeve of the hoodie you were wearing, you broke down into hysterics. I tried to pull it off you, but then it just…vanished. I found it later in the corner."

Harry's eyes widened. "I did that?"

"Well, I don't know how else it coulda just disappeared outta my hands," Jason said with a grin. "And the second thing…I've thought back on it a lot, but during that snowstorm, when I was really sick and it was stupid cold? I really don't think we should have survived. I was legit delirious with fever, and it was like ten degrees outside for three days straight. There's no way those ratty blankets and that tiny candle would have warmed up the room enough to prevent hypothermia. When I was a little more aware, when I said you were warm, it was like you were radiating heat. Way more than your tiny body should have produced." Jason poked Harry in the chest, smiling slightly. "So whatever your powers are, I think they saved our lives."

Harry's eyes went wide. "Really?"

"Really. You're a hero, Harry, and you didn't even know it. My little hero."

Harry smiled and curled into Jason's side. "Then I'm glad my 'freakishness' was able to help someone for once."

Jason wrapped his arm around Harry's shoulders, pulling him in a little closer. "Me, too. Just the idea that I could lose you…it terrifies me." Jason pulled Harry into a proper hug. "When you went out by yourself in the cold to get food and medicine…God I was terrified."

"I was scared, too. That I'd come back or wake up to find you…cold. And stiff. Like—like that homeless man we found in Mr. Ying's alley after the snow melted." Harry shivered. "I saw him that day, you know. Pulling one of those wire carts. And then he was just…gone."

"I'd never leave you, little hawk. Not voluntarily. Not ever."

"Me, either." Harry pressed his nose into Jason's neck. "You're stuck with me forever."

Jason chuckled and pulled him in tighter. "I'm okay with that."

Suddenly the fire escape rattled and a familiar tuft of black hair appeared over the edge of the roof.

"I wanna hug, too!" Tim threw himself at both of them, knocking them flat on the gravel rooftop. Harry laughed as Tim landed half on top of him and half on top of Jason and wrapped an arm around the smaller boy's shoulders. Jason grunted as he got an elbow to the ribs.

"Easy, baby bird. I still need those ribs," he gasped.

Tim giggled and nestled deeper into Jason's chest, his face right next to Harry's. "Mmm, no you don't."

Jason coughed a laugh and shoved them both off. "Let me breathe, little birds," he gasped. "Damn, Timbit, you knocked my breath out."

Tim giggled, looking sheepish. "Sorry." He rummaged around in his backpack and produced his thermos and a container of food. "Truce?" he offered, holding both out.

"Tea or cocoa?" Harry asked eagerly.

"Cocoa. I know it's not that cold anymore, but the nights are still chilly, and it's kinda tradition, right?"

"What's in the container?" Jason asked, having finally recovered his breath though he was still rubbing his sternum.

"Brownies," Tim said with a shy smile. "I helped Mrs. Mac make them the other day. It's just a box mix, but…"

"Gimme!" Harry made grabby hands at the container. Tim laughed and opened it, offering the treats to Harry. He grabbed the biggest one off the top and immediately took a big bite. "Mmm. So good!"

"Careful, little hawk, or you're gonna throw up," Jason cautioned him, amused.

"Why?" Tim asked.

"Cuz we did something awesome today and got lots of money so we treated ourselves to Batburger and ate a ton," Harry said through another mouthful of chocolate.

"Slow down, you little heathen!" Jason grabbed Harry's wrist, stopping him from taking another bite. "It won't taste nearly as good on the way back up!"

"It's been like two hours since Batburger," Harry argued, pulling his wrist free. "I haven't thrown up yet, so I probably won't. And even if I do, I don't care!"

Jason rolled his eyes. "I regret making you feel comfortable enough to argue with me." He grabbed a brownie of his own and nibbled at it. "I miss the days when you were sweet and shy and innocent."

"Well, I like this Harry better," Tim stated, wrapping his arms around Harry possessively. Harry grinned and leaned into him as he polished off his brownie and reached for a second.

"I never should have let you two meet," Jason deadpanned.

"Y'know, I've been wondering that. How did you guys meet?" Tim asked, uncapping the cocoa and passing it around. "The way Harry talks about you, it's like you've always known each other, but I know that's not true."

"Well, Jason got beat up and left in an alley, where coincidentally I'd made my hideout," Harry began. "And at first I was scared, but then I heard him crying—"

"I was not crying," Jason interrupted. "Those were manly groans of pain."

Tim scoffed. Jason opened his mouth to argue, but Harry started talking over him.

"And I knew he was hurt, but all I had were band-aids—"

"Justice League band-aids. You put a Superman one and a Green Arrow one on my scraped elbow."

Harry blinked. "You remember?"

"I left them on for two weeks," Jason stated. "They—" he glanced at Tim, then sighed. "They reminded me that someone cared," he said quietly. "Even if it was a scrappy, naive kid in clothes three times your size and way too much trust for someone on the streets and living next to a dumpster."

Harry valiantly ignored the stinging in his eyes and the heat in his cheeks as he continued the story. "And Jay's ribs were broken, so I let him stay in my hideout for a few days. I stole first aid stuff to wrap his ribs, but he wouldn't let me help. And then he just left." Harry pouted at Jason. "I didn't really expect you to stay, but you could have at least said goodbye."

"I don't know how to say goodbye," Jason muttered. "I never got to say goodbye to my mom or dad, and…no one else ever stuck around long enough for me to want to. I…didn't wanna be disappointed again," he admitted.

Tim and Harry exchanged a glance, then plastered themselves to Jason's sides in a tight group hug. "And now you won't have to," Tim said firmly. "Cuz we aren't going anywhere."

"And I already told you, you're stuck with me," Harry added, grinning.

Jason sniffed, then tried to look nonchalant. "I'd hug you, but you're pinning my arms."

"That's okay. We've got you," Tim said, faux casual.

"Yep. We've got you, Jay. We gotta look after our big brother sometimes, too, you know."

Jason turned his face into Harry's hair, his arms coming up to grip both Harry's and Tim's forearms. "Yeah," he said hoarsely. "I guess so."

Tim and Harry caught each other's eye and shared a grin, then pressed their noses into Jason's neck on opposite sides. And they both pretended not to notice that Jason was trembling between them.

Some minutes later, they finally broke apart. And Harry remembered the toy in his pocket.

"Oh!" He pulled out the action figure and presented it to Tim. "This was in my kids' meal."

Tim gaped. "That's Robin!" he breathed.

"It's for you."

Tim's eyes widened. "R-really? But—"

"But nothing," Harry said firmly. "I don't need toys. I wouldn't have time to play with them anyway. I'd rather it go to someone who will appreciate it."

Reverently, Tim took the figure from Harry and held it to his chest, his eyes shining in the dull glow from the street lamps below. "Thank you," he breathed.

Harry just grinned. "Thank me by giving me another brownie."

"Harry! You've already had two!" Jason exclaimed.

"And I'm hungry! Besides, they've got milk and eggs in them, so they're healthy, right?"

Jason groaned and dramatically threw himself backward to lay on the roof. "You're hopeless."

Harry giggled. Tim handed over a third brownie, and took the second-to-last one as his first. Sharing what was left of the cocoa, they snickered at Jason's dramatics as they nibbled on their treats.

"How did you two meet, anyway?" Jason asked, finally sitting up. "It's not fair that I'm the only one being embarrassed."

"Uh…" They both shared a look, then glanced away, cheeks flushing.

"Okay, now I have to hear the story," Jason said. As he took the last brownie.

"Hypocrite," Harry muttered, half-smiling.

Jason flicked his forehead. "I did not teach you that word so you could use it against me."

Tim giggled. "I was minding my own business, taking pictures of the street and waiting for Batman and Robin to show up. Then I heard a noise and…" he smiled deviously. "And hysteric sobs on the other side of the roof."

"I was not hysteric," Harry corrected firmly through another mouthful of brownie. "I was upset."

"By what?" Jason asked.

Harry froze, caught. He ducked his head. "I told you about how I teleported onto a rooftop? This was literally right after that."

Jason blinked. "Oh."

"So anyway, I went to investigate, and Harry was really freaked out until he saw I was just a kid. Then…" Tim bit his lip. "It was my birthday, and I was upset that…that my parents didn't come home like they'd promised. And Harry asked me if my parents knew I was out here taking photos and…"

"And then Tim was the one crying," Harry finished for him, stuffing the last bite of brownie into his mouth with an appreciative sigh. "And, well, I've never had anyone cry around me before, so I didn't know what to do. But I know I always wanted a hug when I cried, so, I offered one. And he just threw himself at me, the kid he'd just met who probably smelled like a dumpster and didn't look much better, who had just appeared on a random rooftop, and broke down crying."

"And then Harry drew a birthday cake in the dust for me and even drew eight candles on top, and told me to make a wish," Tim continued, ducking his head and smiling shyly. "And…I guess my wish sorta came true."

"You said you'd tell me!" Harry cut in with mock betrayal.

Tim's smile grew. "Yeah, I did. I…I think it officially came true at Christmas, when…when Jason said he was adopting me. But it keeps coming true e-every time you come back." Tim ducked his head again. "I—I wished for a family that would choose me."

This time it was Jason and Harry who engulfed Tim in a hug.

"And we'll always choose you," Harry said firmly.

"Yep. You're our little bird now, Timmy. Welcome to the flock."

Harry giggled. "What does that make you, then, Jay? Mama bird?"

Jason shuddered. "God no. Do not ever call me that again."

"What about Jaybird?" Tim suggested.

Jason shuddered again. "Ew, no."

"Bluejay?" Harry said.

"No."

"...why not just Jay?" Tim chimed in. "You already call him that," he said to Harry.

"Well, yeah, but that's just from his name…"

"It could also mean the bird," Tim said with a shrug. "Is it okay if I call you Jay, too?" Tim asked Jason.

"At least you asked," Jason grumbled. "This kid had barely known my name five minutes before he went and gave me a nickname."

"Like you were any better, calling me 'little hero' because of the stupid band-aids," Harry retorted.

Tim choked on a laugh. "Is that why?" He burst into giggles as Harry's face colored. "That's cute!"

Jason's cheeks turned pink. "I had to call him something. It's not like we exchanged names right away. You don't do that on the streets."

Harry poked him in the ribs. "It was still your idea."

"And you didn't complain. So what are you gonna do about it?" Jason challenged.

"This!" Harry tackled him to the ground again, laughing as he dug his fingers into Jason's ribs. He yelped and tried to push Harry off, but Harry deftly avoided him, digging his fingers in again.

It wasn't until Jason started wheezing that Tim realized that Harry was tickling him. Then he burst into laughter, too.

"You're a traitor, Timbit!" Jason said breathlessly. "Get this little heathen off me!"

"It is! You're doing the same thing to me that you do to Tim!" Harry exclaimed. "Any word you can think of that starts with an H you're turning into a nickname!"

"Are you complaining?"

"That one I am! That's twice you've called me that! I'm not a heathen!" Harry hit Jason's chest with rather more force than necessary, his face turning red.

"Whoa! Where's all this anger coming from? It's just a damn nickname!"

"Don't! Call me a heathen!" Harry's voice cracked as he hit Jason's chest again.

Jason caught Harry's wrists. "Relax, little hawk. I won't call you that again. But why the sudden anger?"

Harry sniffed and sat back. "They—the Dursleys were never religious, but they still brought me to church sometimes, 'to keep up appearances.' And one day the preacher was talking about…witchcraft and sorcerers. He called them heathens, and spent the whole sermon on how horrible they are and that they'll go straight to hell, a-and then…that was right before the first time I teleported to a roof. And when I got home from school that day, Uncle Vernon, he…he yelled at me, called me lots of things like 'freak' and—and heathen. And-and Dudley heard him and then, for weeks, instead of freak, he—they both called me a heathen and said I'd be…I'd be damned for my 'freaky witchcraft." Harry sniffled and wiped his cheeks.

"You know that's all bullshit, right?" Jason said, adjusting his grip so he was holding Harry's hands instead of his wrists. "I told you, your…whatever it is, power or whatever, I'm pretty sure it saved our lives. And no matter what religion you're a part of, I'm pretty sure saving someone's life is an instant ticket to heaven."

Harry gave a watery smile. "Yeah. I guess. I…I never really believed any of that, but…I guess the preacher scared me for a while. I…I don't really believe it now, either, but…" he exhaled shakily. "Some things are hard to forget."

"Oh! That reminds me. I was gonna ask, but then I kept forgetting." Tim interjected, bashful but suddenly looking eager.

"What's up, baby bird?"

"So, after you told me about you maybe being a meta, I did some research, and…I think it might be actual magic. Like Zatanna in the Justice League, but without the weird speaking-backward thing. Maybe you don't need incan-incantations." Tim stumbled a little on the word. "It would be really, really cool if you could learn to do stuff on purpose. I…I read that meditation helps you access your…inner magic? It was a little confusing, but basically the articles all said that if you will something to happen hard enough, you can…manifest it, I guess? Like, maybe you desperately wished to escape those muggers, and that's why you were able to escape?"

"That doesn't explain how I turned my substitute teacher's hair blue once, though," Harry said with a watery laugh, wiping away the last of his tears.

"Maybe…maybe you really wanted to embarrass them? And your…magic, just did whatever was easiest? Or maybe it's more like wild magic, like in Warlocks and Warriors?"

Jason blinked. "Timberly, I have a very important question for you: What the hell is Warlocks and Warriors?"

Tim blushed. "It's a fantasy role-playing game. Some of the kids talk about it at school, so…I looked it up, and it sounded cool, so I…sorta ordered the main player's guide? And I maybe, kinda, read the whole thing in one night?"

Jason stared, then burst into laughter. "Timmy, you never told me you were a nerd!"

Tim smiled shyly. "Um. Surprise?"

Still laughing, Jason tossed an arm around Tim's shoulders. "We have to talk nerd stuff. Do you like reading? What about Lord of the Rings? That's peak fantasy. You have heard of Lord of the Rings, right?"

"I've seen the movies. Even though I'm not supposed to, since they're PG-13," Tim confessed.

"What about the book? Have you read the book?"

"Um. No?"

Jason gave a cry of dismay. "That has to be remedied. Get yourself a copy. I'll find a way to read it to you if I have to, but you have to read it."

Tim smiled a little. "I'll get a copy."

"What about me?" Harry asked. "I haven't even seen the movies."

"That book is on my list, little hawk. If I have my way, we'll start reading it this summer."

"And one day you can come to my house and we can watch the movies," Tim said shyly. "You guys…haven't been over in a while."

Jason clapped him on the shoulder. "We'll try to come soon, Timbo. But buses are hard to sneak onto. And no, you're not buying us the bus fare again."

Tim closed his mouth, pouting.

Harry laughed. "We'll come over as soon as we can, Tim. Promise."

"And in the meantime, you can practice your magic," Tim said eagerly. "So that next time you come over, you can show me something!"

Harry smiled hesitantly. "Deal."

Two hundred dollars, it turned out, lasted a really long time! They stocked up on essentials, Jason bought new (used) shoes, since he had outgrown his old ones—a very cool and well broken-in pair of black combat boots—and they replaced Harry's tattered t-shirt with something better. And there was still a ton of money left over! Jason insisted they save as much as possible, but he did let them treat themselves just a little.

While they were in the thrift shop looking for new clothes, Jason picked up three new books to add to their collection: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens, the very first Boxcar Children book, and, to Harry's absolute delight, his very own copy of Inkheart! He'd been devastated when they'd had to return it to the library. But now, now they could read it every single night if they wanted!

So Harry had no problems at all when, the very next time Harry and Jason went to the library, they checked out a couple of books on meditation and, for a change in pace, yoga, instead of new novels. One of the books even talked about reaching your "inner energy core." From the fantasy books he'd read with Jason, Harry figured that basically meant reaching your inner magic! And a bunch of the meditation books suggested using incense.

To Harry, that sounded like a lot of fun, plus it would help him learn his magic, plus it was something extra special and useful! Their hiding place had been smelling more and more like mold and the dumpsters down below as the weather slowly warmed up. Incense would make it smell better!

And Harry was still only eight years old.

He latched on to the idea and wouldn't let it go.

At first it was just idle conversation.

"Yeah, it'd be nice, little hawk," Jason commented as they settled in for the night, the air unusually warm for mid-March.

"It would be super, super cool, too. And fancy!" Harry had commented back.

"Yeah. It would sure spruce up our base, huh?"

Days later, when Jason had decided to join Harry on the rooftop visiting with Tim, Harry had brought it up again.

"Ooh! Incense is actually super cool!" Tim gushed. "You know there are so many ancient cultures that use it for meditation and worship, too? Egypt, Mesopotamia, Greece, China, and so, so many more! Some even read fortunes in the smoke and ashes!" he exclaimed.

"That's really neat, Timmy," Jason said with a faint smile. "That's cool that you know so much stuff like that."

Tim ducked his head, his cheeks flushing a little. "It's just 'cuz of my parents," he murmured. "They tell me things about their digs and expect me to understand, so I started researching everything I could every time they left. So when they came back, I could actually talk about stuff with them instead of just pretending to understand."

Harry nodded eagerly. "So you're an expert, right? See, Jay? He's an expert! Did your parents ever use incense, too?"

Tim made a face. "I asked once, when my parents came home from a dig in Egypt, if we could try incense, just once. 'Cuz Egypt is kinda famous for incense. They, um, didn't like the idea. Mom complained about how cheap and artificial most incense is nowadays, and doesn't want the smoke 'stinking up the house.'. And Dad claimed the smoke gave him a headache when their work colleagues sometimes used it in the field. But I bet it would be really neat! It would smell really good, I'm sure, and the smoke is supposed to curl in really, really cool patterns!"

"See, Jay?" Harry pointed out. "Tim agrees it would be neat!"

Jason hummed, leaning back on the rooftop. "I never disagreed with ya there, kid. But that sh-that stuff's expensive. And it's a fire hazard. What if somethin' catches fire? You wouldn't want your new books to burn, would ya?"

"That's why we'd be super careful. We could even burn it in a different room!" Harry argued. "That way none of our stuff's in danger!"

"Still expensive, kid. Just 'cuz we're makin' a little more money now doesn't mean we can spend it on whatever we want. We still gotta eat. And you're growin' outta those jeans faster than ya should be."

Harry pouted but let it go.

For now.

And so it went. Every couple of days, Harry would bring it up again, but every time, Jason would shut him down. He was patient at first, understanding even. But the more Harry brought it up, the more testy Jason got.

"I already told ya, kid, we can't afford fancy stuff like that!" he finally burst out.

His angry voice startled Harry into cowed silence.

But Harry wasn't giving up. For the very, very first time in his life, he was going to fight for what he wanted. And he wanted that incense!

So Harry got Tim on his side to help him research brands and prices available locally. He found books about it at the library and learned about all the different scents and which ones were good for meditation. He built a whole solid argument (with Tim's extensive input) explaining the pros and cons and all the ways they could plan for and avoid any possible dangers. He even made a table!

Finally, when Harry was sure there was no way Jason could say no, and Tim assured him his argument was perfectly sound, Harry carefully confronted Jason in their base one morning.

Jason got a pinched look as Harry presented his argument. Very logically, if Harry did say so himself. He even managed to keep his voice (mostly) neutral while presenting all the facts, trying very, very hard to keep his (very strong!) feelings out of it.

When Harry was done, he stood rocking on his toes, awaiting Jason's verdict.

Jason gave a very long, very heavy sigh and pulled Harry into a hug.

"Is…this a yes?" Harry dared to whisper.

"I'm really impressed by the argument, kiddo. I can tell you worked real hard on it."

Harry bit his lip as Jason gently pushed him away. "But…?"

"We're down to our last forty dollars, kid. We ain't had any luck with jacking any new tires lately, either. And we're runnin' out of a lotta stuff already." Jason put his hands on Harry's shoulders, squeezing gently. "I'm really sorry, little hawk. But the answer's still no."

Harry blinked rapidly and shook his head. "No. That's not how this is supposed to go! I asked nicely. I—I did all the work. Tim helped, but I did most of it! Dudley never had to do anything except point and scream. I—I did everything right. I—I—this isn't how this is supposed to go," Harry whispered, still shaking his head. Were his hands shaking? Something felt weird. Like a twist in his gut. He just wanted a stupid smelly stick so he could meditate. Just this once, Harry was asking for something.

But asking had never worked before. Maybe he should have known better than to get his hopes up.

But it's not fair! Harry thought, lifting his head to look at Jason again.

He looked upset, but not like he was going to change his mind.

Harry felt his eyes narrow and his lips turn down in a scowl.

This wasn't fair!

The change on the shelf rattled. A few pennies and a quarter rolled off the shelf to thud to the ground.

Jason jumped, glancing back wildly, then turning back to Harry with wide eyes. "Uh, little hawk? Maybe you should calm down?"

"It's not fair!" Harry exclaimed tearfully. "I never ask for things! Never! You—you get all your books! Why—why can't I have incense? I don't care if it's cheap and the most boring smell ever. I just—I wanna learn about my m-mag—my power. I wanna know what I can do! If I can help! I—I just wanna help!" Harry's voice cracked and broke as tears slid down his cheeks.

Jason looked pained, his lips pressed together tightly.

Harry sniffled pathetically. "Please, Jay? I—I'll never ask for anything else, ever again. I promise. Just...I never asked for anything before. And this is…it's just a little thing. Just a little thing. I'm not asking for brand new clothes or—or anything crazy like that. Just…just this. To help me with my magic." Harry blinked again, fresh tears sliding down his cheeks. "Please, Jay? Just this, then I'll never, ever ask for anything, ever again."

Jason's face twisted. "Don't—don't look at me like that, little hawk," he said, his voice strained. "I—we can't—"

"It's just a dollar. Just one dollar. Please, Jay." Harry even went so far as to clasp his hands in front of him. "Please?"

"I—"

Harry's lower lip trembled, more tears threatening.

Jason's face twisted further. "Aw, come on. Don't—don't look at me like that."

"Please? Can we at least go look? And—and I can pick some pockets along the way. I've gotten really, really good at it. That—that would cover the cost, right?"

Jason grimaced. "I don't know…"

Harry bit his lip and grasped Jason's hands. "Please, big brother?"

Jason crumpled, exhaling forcefully in what sounded like a curse word. "We'll look. That's all."

Harry immediately lit up and threw his arms around Jason. "Thank you! You're the bestest, most awesome brother ever!"

"I said we're gonna look," Jason repeated.

Harry grinned, ignoring the tears still on his cheeks. "That's what you say now," Harry teased.

Jason groaned. "Ugh. Get your shoes on, you little gremlin, you."

Harry cheered and did a victory dance before hurrying to pull his shoes on. Then he grabbed Jason's hand and all but dragged him out of the apartment, and skipped all the way to the drug store.

Needless to say, they did more than just look. It took minimal persuasion once the package was in Jason's hands, while Harry held a cool wooden incense tray (that was only fifty cents!). After test-smelling the half a dozen options the drug store had available, they settled on sandalwood. Harry liked it because it smelled like campfire smoke—or at least, it smelled like the air when one of his neighbors in Surry was grilling, which had always made Harry both hungry and jealous. (He'd always wondered what it would be like to go camping, after one of his classmates came back from a break telling all kinds of cool stories about his trip to the Cairngorms all the way in Scotland.)

Jason deemed sandalwood to be the "least offensive to the senses," after he actively gagged at two of the smells, coughed at another, and grimaced in distaste at the rest.

That same evening, flushed with victory and excitement and trying not to giggle, Harry lit an incense stick with Jason's help, plopped down cross-legged on a spare blanket (it was warmer out now, so they didn't need so many at night), and propped one of the books open to the diagrams. Harry couldn't see the words, but Jason had read them out loud, and the diagrams were pretty easy to follow.

Harry started clumsily through a few yoga forms, but he was so focused on getting the motions right that he couldn't actually think about anything else. So he gave up for now and went back to sitting, following the breathing exercises the book described.

Within ten minutes, he was asleep.

Laughing, Jason woke him when the incense stick burned out.

"I don't think meditation and sleeping are the same thing, little hawk," Jason teased as Harry blinked blearily up at him. The room smelled really nice, like woodsmoke in the winter. Much better than the stale, musty smell of unwashed kids and the hint of mold they'd gotten used to.

"I wasn't tryin' ta fall asleep!" Harry whined. "But it smells really nice and the breathin' made me sleepy and I couldn't help it!"

Jason chuckled. "It probably just takes practice. Come eat something, then you can go back to sleep."

Pouting, Harry straightened up, rolling his neck and shoulders. "You do the yoga with me next time. Then I can laugh at you instead of feeling silly by myself," he said petulantly.

Jason rolled his eyes, grinning. "Yeah, all right. Not like I've got anythin' better ta do."

So they started a routine. In the morning when they got up, they'd do yoga for as long as it took an incense stick to burn out, then they'd go about their regular day, stealing food out of dumpsters or using the little cash they had to buy it at convenience stores. They'd spend an hour or so around three or four playing at the park, because it was the only time they wouldn't look suspicious, because all the other kids coming home from school would stop to play, too.

Harry loved the monkey bars, practicing until his hands were covered in blisters, and then callouses. Then he could swing across them quickly two, three, then four at a time, and he was even trying to flip up onto the end bar like he'd seen Robin do so many times. Jason cheered him on, laughing when he fell instead of worrying because the bars were only four feet off the ground. Then Harry would chase him around the playground, swearing vengeance. Sometimes Jason let Harry catch him, but more often, Harry was just too fast.

Then, when the kids started heading home and the work day was ending, they'd pick a few pockets on the way back to their hideout ("It's a base, little hawk!," Jason would always protest. "Hideouts are for little kids!" And Harry would respond, "We are little kids, Jay!"). If they were lucky, they'd jack a car, too. And a week and a half after the routine started, they'd managed to net another seventy dollars when they managed to make off with a tire, which greatly diminished Jason's money stress.

When they made it back—sometimes late in the evening after meeting with Tim on another rooftop—they'd eat dinner, such as it was, and Harry would practice meditating while they burned another incense stick. ("You're lucky this stuff is cheap, little hawk," Jason would tell him in exasperation every time they had to restock, which was about every two weeks.) More often than not, Harry would fall asleep. But he was lasting longer and longer each day.

Finally, toward the end of April, Harry was able to last the full thirty minutes each time. One day, Harry felt a spark deep inside. He prodded at it, learning about it. It wasn't something he could see, but Harry visualized it like the glowing ember at the end of the incense stick, something burning slow and steady but could flare into an inferno in an instant with the right catalyst—like Jason learned when he got a little too curious and held a scrap of paper to the ember and had it burst into flame. They'd both panicked and Jason had stomped it out with his socked foot, so now there was a burn spot on the floor and a singed hole in one of his socks. (They laughed about it every time they saw the burn spot on the cheap vinyl floor.)

After a few days, Harry learned what his magic felt like, and started trying to do things with it. His first goal was to light the room, because even when the sun was high outside, there were no windows in their laundry room, and neither of them were a fan of the dark. They usually left the door wide open to the rest of the apartment, which let in plenty of natural light during the day. But as soon as the sun set or they closed the door, it was pitch dark inside. (The overhead light that had gone out with the snowstorm never came back on. And it was too high up for them to even think about trying to change the bulb.)

In the first week of May, Harry—still deep in meditation—extended a hand out and pictured a ball of light inside. He imagined it like a candle flame, like the ones that had saved their life and brought so much comfort during that snowstorm. He concentrated hard, trying to coax that little ember deep inside him to move from his stomach to his hand and glow.

Jason's gasp almost made him lose his concentration.

But Harry was stubborn. He hung on to the feeling—a light tingling, a faint warmth flowing up his arm—and slowly let his eyes flicker open.

And then it was his turn to gasp in wonder. There, on his hand, was a tiny dancing flame, like someone had just lifted the candle flame off the wick and let it hover over his palm, but there was no heat. His palm was also glowing slightly, like when he put his hand over the bulb of their camping lantern. The room was lit with a soft golden candlelight, brighter than a flame that size should have been able to accomplish.

"Jay…I did it," Harry whispered, willing the tiny, wonderful flame to stay.

"That's fucking amazing," Jason whispered.

The curse word startled Harry so much he lost his concentration, and the flame snuffed out as if it were never there. It wasn't the word that startled Harry; he'd heard it hundreds of times. But Jason was always so careful to filter himself around Harry (which was unnecessary, but it was a little funny and it made Harry feel warm that someone cared enough to actually watch their language when speaking around him), so the slip had startled him.

"Jay!" Harry whined. "You made me lose my concentration!"

"So just do it again."

Harry pouted and tried, but he was suddenly so tired, like he'd just bolted away from a group of thugs or an angry shopkeeper. His brain hurt, too.

"I can't. 'M too tired," Harry slurred. "And my brain hurts."

"Then go to bed and you can try again tomorrow."

Blinking sleepily, Harry crawled over to Jason and plopped down beside him, with his head in Jason's lap. "'Kay," he murmured and closed his eyes.

The last thing he registered was a soft chuckle and fingers running gently through his hair.