(A/N: So sometimes life hits you hard and for a while it hit me hard and I didn't have time for fan fiction, but I'm back and I will finish the story.)

Five year old Harry got impressively far, to the outskirts of the heart of town, where little shops started to pop up. The streets, however, were rather vacant, which prompted Harry to explain, "There was a big fair that day and most people wanted to go, but not my aunt and uncle or Dudley. Nothing that exciting really ever happens in Little Whinging."

Five year old Harry looked around the shops, with a glowing realization of how close he was to leaving his town. Something else he realized was that, although there were only a few adults around, a kid his age, out on the street would be a red flag to people. So he maneuvered himself around to adults who had similar features to him or adults with children, to give off the impression he belonged to them and wasn't just out on his own. It wasn't even that hard.

It wasn't until he stopped beside a youngish man in brown loafers, jeans, and a dark blue dress shirt, that five year old Harry wondered if he could keep the charade up all the way out of town. This man didn't even look like him. He had a boyish, roundish face, brown hair, parted on the side, and brown eyes.

Harry felt like spoiled orange slices were stuck in his throat and he subconsciously brought his hand to grip his belt. Isaac looked over at him, in time to see him do it, and gave him a kind of look that made Harry ache for the childhood he could have had with him.

Five year old Harry was discovered by the man, who spread his mouth in a smile and lowered himself to Harry's level and held Harry's shoulder. The younger Harry gave him a startled look, but the man only said, in an eerily, soft voice, "Hey there, little guy. Where are you off too, with so much food? You're not running away, are you?"

Harry couldn't help but let his mouth twitch into a sad smile over his realization, at five years old, that there was something sketchy about the man. The man was also aware of his hesitance and continued, in that skin crawling voice, "You don't have to be afraid. Let me introduce myself. I'm Jeffrey Hammer. Now, we're friends." He took Harry's bag and peered inside, "You really must be running away." He suggested, "How about you run away with me then?"

Five year old Harry's vocal abilities had been suspended, but now it all rolled out, "Noooooooooo!"

Five year old Harry left his bag with the man, so he could bolt down the sidewalk. The man raised himself and clenched his jaw, then set off after Harry. The way he called out for him crashed down through Natalie, like metal wires that ripped apart her insides, as well as having had been the fuel to make five year old Harry quicken his pace, with each step.

Harry recalled, as they went farther down the road, the way he numbed himself to the pain Dudley's shoes had caused him, how his baggy shirt helped him imagine he was a superhero escaping danger and it was his cape. He had heard enough about stranger danger to know he had not found a new parent, but those people who touched kids where they didn't like it, although Harry hadn't actually understood what that meant back then.

When they got to the book shop and five year old Harry was able to see the red, gold, and green bohemian style interior through the window, they saw a twenty-six year old Isaac inside of it. He locked eyes with Harry and immediately directed his path of vision to the lightning scar. The younger Isaac was in black muggle clothes, creased pants, a thin belt, shiny shoes, and a dress shirt, with the top button left undone. Isaac recalled how the fear in five year old Harry's eyes had struck him, like a jagged cut down his heart from an old knife that had previously been used in the same spot, before it had rusted.

Just then, Jeffrey Hammer had caught up with five year old Harry and laid his thick grip back on his shoulder. Twenty six year old Isaac saw five year old Harry turn and give Jeffrey a kind of horrified expression that tumbled down twenty six year old Isaac like a wheel of jagged, rusted wires that left a trail of ripped up muscles, tissues, etc. in it's path.

Natalie, who had been beside Harry, left him to go over and slide her arms around Isaac and he gave her a kiss on the top of her head. The younger Isaac had just leapt through the store and grabbed the arch way on his way out, to steady himself.

They all watched the younger Isaac set dagger eyes on Jeffrey Hammer. It wasn't just anger, but a burning sensation that crawled up his skin and made him ready to discard all sense of logic. Harry still saw Isaac as a hero, but not like when he was five. When he was five, he had assumed, upon seeing him, that Isaac was going to be his new parent. Harry couldn't explain why he felt that way as a child, but now he wondered if he had somehow remembered Isaac. Harry felt warm pressure on the back of his eyes and clenched his jaw to keep from crying.

Twenty six year old Isaac shoved Jeffrey Hammer against the brick wall and growled, "Get away from my nephew!"

Something Harry was only able to notice now was that, while his five year old self had been planning ways to thank Maddy for helping him escape, the younger Isaac had been a little surprised that the word "nephew" had rolled off his tongue.

Jeffrey Hammer had smirked, knowingly, "He's not your-"

The younger Isaac felt the shock of realizing Jeffrey knew who Harry was zap him. He gave him another shove against the wall, venomously, with a hint of anxiety showing through, "He's mine!"

Isaac's desperation had not hit Harry then. He had been so dazed by believing he was about to start a happy life that this moment had seemed more like those comic books he had seen Dudley reading about super heroes who flew down from the sky to grab a civilian away from a villain's trap. Now, he could see the pain that Isaac was a slave too. He could vividly imagine how Isaac must have been up late wondering if his younger self had enough food, if he was warm enough, if he was happy.

Jeffrey Hammer's fear of Isaac was undeniable. He was trembling and his adam's apple bobbed, until a thought passed his mind. He still shook and so did his voice, "Your brother-"

Isaac saw his younger eyes dimmed by what button he had known Jeffrey Hammer had been ready to press. Natalie noted that they dimmed a little less in her time, while Harry felt like his stomach was like an old, wet towel being wrung out. Dumbledore set his mouth in a line, reflectively, and lowered his eyes, while Lupin turned to Isaac with a You can't blame yourself. look, but Isaac wouldn't look at any of them. He clenched his jaw to hold back tears.

"You'll be in Azkaban forever." the younger Isaac snapped, informatively. He shook in a way that cut at Dumbledore, Lupin, and Natalie's heart, but only left Harry faintly curious and sorry for him.

Jeffrey challenged him, "Whose going to trust a Snape?"

The dilemma passed over Isaac's face a moment, like a thick curtain over a window ion a sunny day, before he turned to five year old Harry and instructed him in a caring tone of voice harry recalled made him feel the equivalent to what Dudley felt when he got a new video game, "Go inside the shop and if someone asks, tell them you ran away from your uncle Isaac because I wouldn't buy you candy." The way he was able to use the term uncle spread his lips out on a smile, "Harry."

Five year old Harry felt himself absorbed in that smile. It was better than wrapping his comforter around him and closing his eyes, so he could pretend his parents and a brother were sleeping heavily in other rooms.

The whole moment put hot pressure on the back of Harry's eyes, so he turned away, hunched over, to conceal his tears from the others, "Stop it a moment…Just give me a minute, please."