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chapter ten; just beginners luck
The first time Amaya had successfully stolen a man's wallet on the street, she had been around six and walking through Madrid with her father, dressed in a little cotton dress and boots she recalled had a pink ribbon instead of laces.
Her father was a respectful man, both amongst the Wizarding society and not, he had connections all over the Peninsula and a lot of influence in the Consortium. Of course, he was bored out of his mind. And to cure this boredom of his, that came with being a stuffy member of society, he'd become a successful thief, who had many names, amongst them the Goldsaint, which was quite stupid, in Amaya's opinion, since it was a rough translation of their name.
He'd managed to create a whole other persona, who grew beyond the borders' of their previously secluded country. Hence, he wanted a son, one that could carry his name and legacy, and become just like him.
Instead, he got Amaya. And it wasn't that she wasn't a boy, no, he got over that quite quickly, especially when her mother looked so pleased to have a daughter (and the only thing her father might've loved more than his criminal tendencies was her mother). His problem with her was that Amaya had been born with a brain, and most of all, a heart.
She felt guilty when she stole that man's wallet, she almost cried when she did but urged herself to ignore her moral compass when her father had grinned with pride and shot her a little wink as they walked away, before tipping his hat a man passing by them. She questioned the meaning of what he was trying to teach her, and he began questioning her abilities.
But whether he thought so or not, Amaya had learned a lot from him, and she was proud (mostly) to say she was a pretty good thief—not that she practiced it; she didn't quite fancy the feeling of taking stuff from others. But still, her first instinct when she first walked somewhere was to spot the wallets' shapes in people's pockets, the paintings on the wall, and the artifacts on display, and assess how hard it would be to nick them.
She was ashamed to say she'd done that the first time she got to the Potters—they had a few moving paintings that were worth a good couple hundred thousand Galleons, and a few objects on display that could sell for a good price in the black market, just to name a few—, not that she would ever steal anything from them.
Well, not in those circumstances, because, at the moment, Amaya was more than pleased at stealing James Potter's money in a game of poker—especially after he was a cocky bastard and bragging about his talents.
She wasn't a fantastic player. Overall, she was pretty average, but she was resourceful and nothing in the rules told her she couldn't try and see through the cards with magic—in fact, she was quite sure there were no poker rules against magic usage, so, technically, it wasn't cheating; besides, she'd give the Potters the money back either way, it was just entertaining to wipe James' cocky smirk off his face.
