Disclaimer: See the prologue chapter. It applies to this entire story.

Before we get started, I would like you all to thank Neko Raiga for telling me to get off my ass and finish editing this story. To all of you who reviewed, thank you, even those of you who I have not gotten back to personally yet. To all of you who I told the next chapter would be coming out in a few days several moths ago, I apologize. The chapter really was almost done when I said that. I just didn't finish it until now.

I do not believe this chapter to be as good as it may one day be yet. I edited the hell out of it (my first drafts are usually crap), but it isn't smooth enough yet. I will go back later.

Onward and upward, I say.

Chapter 1: Early Childhood and Meeting Alex

The adoption of his sort-of nephew was not originally figured into Timothy Smithers' life plans. Before Harry, he'd worked a routine 9:00-5:00 at MI6's R&D facility, and lived by himself in a cramped studio apartment. Distant from his family and with few friends outside of his acquaintances at work, his life was a rather lonely and unfulfilling one.

The addition of a young child changed things dramatically. First, the odd pair had moved to a moderately large home in Chelsea. Two bedrooms, a bathroom upstairs and down, and a basement that Smithers converted into a laboratory; it was perfect. He arranged with his employers to work part time. He'd once somewhere heard a saying to the effect of "the best thing to give a child is time", and he wanted to do this thing right.

Though his intentions were good, his production of things that were sneaky or went boom or both decreased dramatically (to his employers' dismay). It seemed that all the time he spent in his lab – the only place he could get some peace and quiet, it seemed – was wasted due to his state of exhaustion. He'd never known just how much energy was required to keep up with a two-and-a-half-year-old.

Within weeks of meeting his cousin's nephew-by-marriage, Smithers had discovered a parental side to his personality that he'd never know before. He could not deny that he was glad, though. His once empty life had quickly and gladly expanded to include little Harry. Some days, Smithers wondered how he had gotten along without his presence.

The boy was bright for such a young child, already speaking very well (though very infrequently), grasping advanced concepts, and learning from everything that went on around him. Harry was nothing if not an attentive and motivated listener. He was always amazed by the way the boy could repeat back, word for word, something that Smithers had said the week before.

Smithers' adjustment to being a 'parental unit' was made easier by Harry's reluctance to make a fuss over anything. Though he had at first been concerned that Harry was somehow damaged by his cousins' neglect, he came to read Harry's moods well enough that his reticence wasn't an issue.

As for Harry himself, he learned soon enough that Smithers was a kind and generous sort, and not at all the type to take offence when a favor was asked of him. If Harry wanted a cheese sandwich, then his "uncle" was only too happy to make him one, if he would only ask.

Some months later, after Harry and Smithers had settled into a rhythm, Smithers' time was split between developing remarkably destructive or fabulously sneaky devices for MI6 at the laboratory and creating toys that would keep Harry occupied in his basement.

He had quickly discovered that Harry had an aversion to normal toys. Though he would use them, he would not play with them if there was some one was watching. Smithers figured (correctly) that this reaction was the result of his relatives' treatment of him. It made him sick to think that Harry had not always been valued as he deserved. Harry was a smart child, brilliant, even, and could keep himself occupied with just about anything, toy or not. But Smithers was afraid that he was in some way neglecting him if he did not make at least an effort to supply Harry with anything he could need. Besides, by the time the boy was three, it was quite clear that normal toys would not have been adequate to keep him entertained for long anyway.

Not as they were intended to be used, anyhow. After the first incident involving the disassembled parts of a toy truck, the spare table cloth and the first floor window, Smithers decided that his boy was also a little too creative for his own good. Still, that particular occasion had shown that Harry was exhibiting a keen intelligence and an aptitude for manipulating complex objects; for taking things apart, in other words. Smither's young charge took this a bit farther than most would however. Harry was already grasping the idea of using delicate tools to dismantle things as complex as the rickety old toaster Smithers was fond of – without breaking anything.

Neither of the two males had any idea just how exceptional than was. According to his parents, Smithers had been much the same. Timothy had no doubt that, if properly encouraged, the boy would get around to building things as well. So, he toiled in the lab, designing and fabricating toys that would help to develop Harry's manual dexterity, hand-eye coordination and three-dimensional thinking skills. He called them 'take-apart puzzles'. Not a creative name by any means, but he never claimed to be a marketer. He enjoyed the difficult process of trying to predict what Harry could and could not do with his limited three-year-old patience and motor control before getting completely discouraged. He also learned that the best way to get little Harry into bed was to promise to work on the latest puzzle with him over breakfast, "and the faster you go to sleep, the longer we'll work in the morning."

Bribery, yes, but also highly effective.

When Harry turned four, he started putting his take-apart puzzles back together, a process that was much more difficult than their intended purpose. Though he supposed he should have been accustomed to being blown away by Harry's accomplishments, Smithers was shocked by what he saw when he came up the stairs from the: Harry, sitting on the floor, a half-reconstructed truncated cube puzzle in his hands and the rest of the pieces set in a purposeful (if somewhat messy) pattern around him. He had known then, beyond a shadow of any doubt, that Harry was as good as a genius. He never forgot the look of intense focus on the child's face in that moment. He started taking Harry down into the basement with him when he was building something relatively safe. He explained the basics of electronics and gear ratios and other things related to mechanical physics. Harry didn't understand it all, but his level of comprehension and sheer memory were a thing of wonder in any case. Smithers thought he would be proud if the boy went into his field. After all, Smithers' father had been an electrician, and Smithers built…things…for MI6; it could be something of a family business…

When Harry stated primary school, life took another big change. After four years of near constant contact with each other, it was somewhat stressful separation for both parties, Harry especially. Smithers spent several weeks beforehand agonizing over every little thing that could go wrong for his little Harry. He felt like his own mother, but he couldn't help it. Would Harry make friends? Would he fit in? He was quite exceptional, after all. Would he like his teacher? Despite Smithers' best efforts and care, Harry was still quite small for his age due to earlier neglect. Would that make him a target for bullying?

He had good reason to worry. After five weeks, Harry's teacher called him in for a meeting.

She, a graying older lady called Ms. Grimble, informed him that his ward was not "fitting in with the class" and "often did not pay attention during instruction". Smithers didn't blame Harry for this in the least. He'd thought that school was boring, too. Though Harry had spoken excitedly of playing during free time, he expressed as best he could (and that was very well) his frustration over how far behind him his peers were intellectually.

He had made one friend, of a sort, though. The bullying which Smithers had predicted had been nipped in the bud by a boy from the year above Harry. To hear Harry tell it, the boy, Alex, had used super-fancy karate moves to frighten the bullying boys off. Then, he had condescended to sit with Harry that lunch. Harry was instantly struck with a mild case of hero worship, and wanted martial arts lessons so that he could be just like his new acquaintance.

But within his own class, Harry had made no friends, and was so far ahead of his peers academically that Ms. Grimble recommended that he be moved into the second year class.

Apparently, Harry's advanced intelligence was also a source of teasing. Somehow, Smithers did not think that putting Harry in a higher-level class was going to ease that, but he agreed to talk to Harry about it. Some days later, Harry made the transfer to the second year class. He didn't mind that he would be with kids older than himself. He just hoped that it would improve his chances of getting to spend time with the incredible Alex, who he had only caught glimpses of in the time since his rescue.

It was much to the boy's disappointment when he was not placed in Alex's class. Still, Harry's interest in school took a turn for the better after that. It seemed to Smithers that Harry thrived in adverse conditions. Though he was undeniably behind his peers (now that they were learning grammar and history and other things he knew nothing about), he was determined to catch up and surpass them. He did extra homework to practice his reading and writing, and it paid off. When students returned to school the second semester, Harry was well within range of vying for top position in the class. He had also loosely befriended two other boys in his class, named Trevor and Jonathan. Still, Smithers gleaned from Harry's comments that he still faced some discrimination by he peers. Rather than playing with other students during recesses, Harry went to the library and read. Occasionally he played football with the other boys, but he wasn't much good and did not get invited often. It seemed that the only real reason that Harry wanted to play in the first place was because of Alex, who was the best footballer of all the second-year boys. Harry's childish awe had waned very little, to his guardian's amusement, and on the occasions that he interacted with Alex at school it could be expected that his interest in taking a martial art would increase. Smithers didn't know if he should take Harry's hints and requests seriously. The boy was not exactly an athlete. Anyway, he had yet to even catch a glimpse of the famed 'Alex'; Harry's enchantment with him might not be a good thing. What if the boy was not a good role model?

However, by the time the summer holiday came around, he had capitulated and signed Harry up for both Karate and Judo. For the summer, Harry had only an hour a week for each class. Smithers told him to pick the one he liked best, so that he could have two hours a week of one of the arts rather than splitting his time. To his surprise, however, Harry took to both of the classes like a duck to water. Smithers was happy that his nephew had found something that he loved to do other than spend time by himself playing with electrical components. The boy needed social interaction, and other than a few meets with Trevor and Jonathan at the park, he certainly wasn't getting much. So, much to the boy's delight, Smithers spent the money for Harry to go to lessons twice a week for both. At the least, Smithers figured that Harry wouldn't nave any bullying problems. He admitted to himself that he was concerned that Harry's consistently small size and incredible intelligence would continue to make him a target, despite Alex's previous defense. In his knowledge, most bullies had short memories. What if Alex was not about to save the day next time? Now, Harry would be able to take care of himself. Without the truth of his own vulnerability shadowing him, Smithers hoped that his nephew might also gain some confidence.

At the end of the summer holiday, Harry was ecstatic to find that his class placement had earned him a spot in the more academically advanced class – with Alex.

The first time that Smithers ever saw his nephew's hero (though he was starting growing out of his hero-worship) was the first day of class. It was the end of the school day, and the children were rowdy, unable to hold still any longer. Smithers was there to pick up Harry and walk back to their home together, just as had become their tradition already. The beginning of every term, Smithers had promised that he would walk Harry home. On this occasion, he had even taken the day off, special. He got the sense that Harry wanted to show his classmates that he had family too. Smithers went along with it, despite his bulk making it difficult to move about with ease. Smithers did not like walking. He supposed his personal experiences with the secondary school-level football team had quite put him off exercise entirely. The smile that it put on Harry's face to see his uncle was worth it though.

He was not alone in picking up his child on the first day. About a dozen other parents had come to get their children. One was speaking with the teacher, whose head was nodding every so often, and the others were about the room with their offspring. So when he accidentally bumped shoulders with Ian Rider, it was highly unexpected.

He did a double take. "Mr. Rider, what on earth are you doing here?"

Ian Rider turned, but did not exclaim in surprise at the sight of his co-worker. The only indication that Smithers' appearance was a surprise was a very slight slackening of his expression. "Ah…I'm here to pick up my nephew. I try to come when I am not working."

Smithers knew full well what sort of work that was.

"That's grand," said Mr. Smithers, "I had forgotten you had a nephew. Which one--?"

Just then, a blond boy with dark eyes ran up with a big smile on his childish face. It was easy to see that he would likely grow up to be very handsome. "Ian! You're here!"

"Alex," the older Rider scolded, "Don't be rude. You interrupted Mr. Smithers."

Question answered.

He saw the teacher lean down slightly to Harry and heard her thank him for his contributions to the class. Harry just quietly nodded his dark head and made his way to his caretaker's side.

Opposed to Ian Rider's distant greeting to his nephew, Smithers greeted his charge with a grin and a packet of fruit-flavored jelly snacks.

"This is Mr. Rider, Harry. He is one of the people I work with."

"Hello Mr. Rider," Harry said.

"Do you know Alex, Harry? He is Mr. Rider's nephew."

Harry him a look. Smithers got the sense that he had said something very stupid.

It took him a moment. It was too absurd. What a small world it was, if his adopted nephew had ended up in the same class as the son and nephew of two of MI6's top espionage agents. Who could have guessed?

"Oh." He said, not very wittily. "Yes, I see."

Please review. It helps me improve my writing, even if you are just pointing out stupid grammar mistakes. I can only catch so many of my own.