Title: The Turk Kid

Author: PiperDreamer

Rated: T

Disclaimer: If you think either of these are mine…you need your head examined.

The night sky was too polluted to see any stars, and the air held a grimy taste to it that new comers often gagged upon.

But if you were a local of Midgar the air tasted the same and many have only heard of stars in stories.

Midgar was a city of slums, where the rich laughed at the poor's pathetic attempts to cling to life and where the blackest of souls spread their cruelty like a disease, the young having learned the ropes of life far too early and the old prayed they lived to see better times.

Paranoia was man's best friend while having morals was considered a foolish nicety, and who wouldn't believe this? If you were well off enough to have a home you were truly fortunate to get there unharmed and without getting mugged.

This said, a young man, looking rightly around seventeen walked up to a decent and stable looking apartment building, carrying a box of take out food as he took a drag from his cigarette.

The teen had a lanky physique, unkempt red hair and two symmetrical red tattoos on his cheek bones. He wore goggles, pushed up onto his forehead, an unbuttoned suit jacket, and an untucked dress shirt and looked for the entire world like a lazy guy making a delivery and couldn't be easier pickings.

But as the two thugs in a heap sporting lumps on their noggins behind him could attest, he was no push over and had absolutely no qualm whatsoever about electrocuting any guy in the gonads if they irritate him enough.

The teen meandered up the old stairs, idly noting the various cracks here and there of the apartment complex he resided in before finding himself in front of his door.

Taking one last puff he threw out the cigarette, exhaling the smoke into the already overly polluted air before opening the door.

Looking around he found a nearly spotless interior, the only signs of anyone having been here was the still hot cup of coffee on the counter.

"Yo! Come out or I'm eating all of your dinner!" the red head said, waving the box high.

A gasp was heard and a moment later the goggled headed teen saw a boy crawl out from under the couch and rushing forward. The boy stopped short, smiling up at him.

"Reno! You're back!" the child said happily.

Reno, for that was the red heads name grunted, handing over the box. The boy took the meal and headed to the kitchen. The teen sprawled out on his coach.

A few minutes later the boy came back out, two dishes in his hands. Handing one to Reno the boy sat down next to the couch, quietly eating his own food.

As they ate in comfortable silence Reno reminisce on how they first met.

Three months ago Reno had returned from a mission, dog tired. When he got home he found a small waif propped up against his door, wearing clothes far too big for him and looking woefully underfed.

The teens first instinct was to kick him out of the way. Kids were often in the apartment complexes, hoping to steal any goods you so happen to 'drop'. Before he could raise his foot the kid jerked, having apparently fallen asleep. Wide scared eyes search franticly before squinting up at him, telling the teen he had seen abuse and was in dire need of glasses.

Before he shooed him away though he had caught the color of his eyes and stopped. Reno had grown up with his father, a haggard man who worked as muscles to that creep Don Corneo in the Sector 6 Wall Market and had never met his mother but knew that he had the woman's eyes; his father told him this frequently.

He worked in a place where he met, blackmailed and drafted people from all over the globe yet as far as he knew he had never encountered someone who shared his eye shade, making him feel unique.

Yet this kid had them too. Taking a closer look, he could sorta see a resemblance. Add a few pounds on the kid, clean him up a bit and dye his hair red and they'd look like legit brothers.

Reno scoffed at this. There was no way this kid could be related to him. He's luck wasn't that bad. Looking back at the kid who was staring up at him in unfocused curiosity he realized that the kid was shivering and sweating, despite it being muggy and warm.

Deciding to do his one good deed of the year Reno dragged the kid in and forced him to drink a health potion. Minutes later he was well but sleeping. Reno decided, against his better judgment, to let the kid stay for the night before kicking him back out onto the streets in the morning.

When he awoke the next morning, he found his normal pig sty apartment spotless and found the kid scrubbing his toilet. Apparently the kid could cook and clean, meaning he wouldn't need to hire those house cleaners ever again.

And so the boy had lived here ever since.

"Reno, sir?" the boy spoke.

Looking back at the kid he found him politely asking for his empty plate so that he could wash it. Reno shrugged, giving the plate over.

The boy was very young. When he first met the kid he had originally thought him to be three years old but then took into account that kids living in the slums were half-starved and malnourished, stunting their growth meaning that the kid in front of him could be any where between three and seven.

Despite being very small he was very fast, a trait he probably picked up from running from thugs and bullies.

He had a scraggily mess of black hair, was very pale (though to be fair most people in Midgar were; the sun rarely shines through the clouds of effluence), a lightning shape scar on his forehead.

Standing up Reno lethargically wandered to the kitchen door, leaning against it as he watched the boy wash the dishes.

The kid must of sensed him because he turned to him, eyes squinting.

"Yes sir?"

"Have you come up with an answer yet?" Reno asked, stratching his head.

"To what question?"

"Your name. You've been here for three whole months. If your gonna stay here I need a name to call ya."

Early on Reno had asked the kid for his name but was surprised to find that he couldn't recall ever having one, unless you counted 'Freak Boy' as a name.

To this Reno had told him to get one; everybody needed a name, if only to give themselves an identity.

The boy smiled, drying his small hands. "I think I got one, but I wanted you to hear it first."

"Okay. Shoot."

"Um…Am-Ambient. Ambient Loveless." The boy stuttered, looking away.

"…Ambient…Loveless." Reno deadpanned, not sure if he should laugh or pity the kid.


"Hmm. Why?"

"I was reading a book I found in our neighbor's trash called Loveless, and well I liked the book and well…ambient was a style of music I heard on your radio that I liked."

"Ah. I see." Reno yawned before making a shooing motion with his hand. "If that's your choice, fine. Just remember, it's what I'm calling you for the rest of your life."

"I know."

"Good. Now how far have you gotten in that pick locking book I gave you?"

"Half way. I broke into four of our neighbors homes and took some gil."

"Nice." Reno frowned, stepping closer to the newly dubbed Ambient Loveless.

"What?" the boy said once Reno came into focus, meaning he was mere inches from his face.

"…your blind as a bat, aren't you?"

"A little."

"Your eyes didn't focus till I got close enough to count the dirt specks on your cheeks. You're all but blind yo."


Standing up Reno sighed turning around. "Get your shoes on and jacket. We're paying a eye doctor a visit. But first we're dyeing your head."

"What?" Ambient yelped, looking startled.

"We're dyeing your head red. This way I can claim your family and get child benefits and a tax reduction for being your brother and guardian." Reno said, grinning over his shoulder. He stopped upon seeing the boys wide eye stare and –oh dear god no! – tears.

"Um, haha! Just kidding?" he tried, hoping the kid would stop the water works.

"Do you really mean that? Are you really gonna be my brother?" Ambient whispered.

It then dawned on him that the boy in front of him was not just a kid, but more then likely an orphan or was abandon by his real family.

Most kids had serious trust issues thanks to those situations and were starved for attention, even negative ones.

Some just wanted family or someone to show they care.

Hearing him say he was going to be his brother must of sounded like a dream come true.

Grinning Reno said, "Duh! Of course I'm gonna be your brother! Your already taking up a chunk of my paycheck, why not make it official?"

Reno hated paperwork with a fiery passion and had gotten into lots of trouble in the past for literally setting it on fire, but if that means he got a live in cook/cleaner and benefits for taking responsibility for him then that was fine. Win-win!

Hi. This is my try at a Harry Potter in FF7 world, and I always wondered how Harry would have turned out had he been raised by Reno.

Harry/Ambient is five years old in this chapter, and the FF7 time line in this story is roughly about a year or so after Sephiroth had torched Nibelheim, meaning he'll be about nine when the meteor crashes. The next chapter will take place just after Advent Children, making him eleven.

Sorry if you didn't like Reno, that was my first attempt to write him. He was hard because he just seemed like a moody lazyass before Advent Children (grant it, I still thought he was funny but still).

This is not canon (obviously)! There will be a lot of changes in this! Enjoy!