The problem with his "take two" at life, Harry decided as he and Professor McGonagall left Gringotts, was that at the end of the day it wasn't that useful. Compared to the games that Dudley (and himself, to some extent) played, at the end of the day the majority of his "tool" could just be described as constant testing. While Hermione may have been happy to have received that, Harry… wasn't as thrilled. It was nice, sure, to know that he had an "84" in acting, but he didn't even know what that was out of! (He severely doubted it was a percentage, considering he was already at 90 in magic and he knew that he was nowhere near as good as, say, Dumbledore.)

The bonuses were significantly more helpful, but they were also significantly harder to get. He'd already spent most of his hard earned points, and given how rarely he earned more it wasn't as if he was going to get a chance in the near future to get another advantage.

On top of that, he had been brought back ALONE.

Oh yeah, sure, there were 26 (woops—25 now) other people who'd kept their memories, but there were also BILLIONS of people in the earth, and assuming they'd all been given giant goals like he had—which was likely, when you took into account the huge technology surge which had been fast-forwarded a few years by someone, not to mention the political and environmental changes—they weren't very likely to be within the near vicinity of each other.

Then again, he had been tasked with revamping Magical Europe's education after another… gamer?... had quit or got hit with a bus or something, and, given what he knew of the magical world, it was really unlikely that a muggle would've been given that task, and there weren't all that many magical people comparatively, so maybe he could run into one of the others, assuming that there were a couple working almost exclusively on the magical side of things.

But even then, even if there was some chance he'd meet other world-changers in the future, he certainly wasn't meeting them now.

Which was… lonely, honestly. In all of the years of his repeat he had yet to meet anyone he was actually friends with—acquaintances he had by the bucketful, but friends? People he could actually rely on?

He had, of course, considered tracking down some of his former friends—Hermione especially—but… well, it would be kind of pointless, wouldn't it? This Hermione was not the Hermione he remembered. She wasn't his mental age, for one, and for another she'd literally grown up in a different world. That didn't stop him from wishing he could, though. Hermione had always been his brain. He'd like to say he could think for himself, and to a large extent that was true, but he knew that if his IQ had been one of the skills his "tool" had measured it would be average, at best.

And right now? Right now he needed to be a fuck ton better than "average."

…But it wasn't like he had a choice, right? This was literally do or die, and out of all the possible bonuses not one actually directly increased his intelligence, just his knowledge or senses or even height.

So maybe that was worse than being alone. It didn't really feel like it, though. Knowing that he was on his way to meeting all of his friends' doppelgangers, so similar yet so different from the people he remembered, and that he would never be able to re-forge those connections without them being fundamentally altered from what they once were…

It killed him.

It killed him.

So yeah, given the amount on his plate maybe his average-at-best intelligence was his largest unchangeable hindrance. But he was lonely, unfathomably lonely, and he found himself crying himself to sleep more than he would ever admit in either life, so it was that particular obstacle that he found himself thinking about the most.

What would Hermione be like? He remembered being 11, but those memories were dulled, less emotion-filled than when he was experiencing them in person, and less clear because his perception was certainly far below "MAX" in his first life. Would her behavior have been changed by the differences in this timeline? How about Ron's? He hadn't noticed any major differences in the magical world, but that didn't mean there weren't any. Would this Ron not root for the Chudley Cannons like his Ron did, but rather for the Appleby Arrows?

He wouldn't able to make friends in Hogwarts as he had when he was 11, he knew that already, but would he be able to be friendly with them? He could—and would—act, of course, but there was only so much you could fake constantly and consistently. He may not actually be a genius, but to some extent he would be unable to hide his "genius" actions, being completely unwilling to work on homework for hours instead of the 40-50 minutes—max—it would take him this go-round.

Would Hermione resent him for that? How about Ron? Hermione had always defined herself by how well she did in comparison to others, particularly at 11, and he knew that Ron had never really gotten over doing the most poorly in school out of their little trio, so would that remain even if they weren't in any kind of direct competition? Would they give him the cold shoulder, and treat him as they had the Ravenclaws which had thumbed their noses at the "Golden Trio" in turn?

And not having Hermione and Ron as friends changed far more than his day to day at school.

He doubted that he'd have the Weasleys as family, this time. That had originally started because Ron was his best friend and, aware of his poor home life, had done all he could to invite Harry into his family. Neither of those factors really held true, this time.

The more he thought about it the more his entire life broke down.

Everything he could possibly look forward to—the friends and family he'd gathered over time in his last life—would never be the same people as they had been then, and treating them like they were would be like treating Padma and Parvati Patil as the same person (and hadn't that gone marvelously, the first time?)

He wanted friends. It was lonely, being alone. And he knew it'd get worse as he continued to run into people he'd known before.

He'd been able to hold out through shopping with Professor McGonagall, so far. She hadn't yet realized that he was unusually quiet—but then, she didn't really know him that well, and it hadn't actually been all that long, and he was still responsive to the world around him (thanks to his maxed attention and perception), so maybe whatever distraction did leak through she simply attributed to him being eleven and clothes shopping being fun for no-one (he refused to believe that any man or woman, even Lavender, could actually enjoy this.)

He knew, on some level, that he should tune back into reality more fully. Even if his eidetic memory would keep anything important from slipping his mind—theoretically, at least—stewing in negativity wasn't great, according to the psychological texts he'd gotten his hand on.

He tried to pay attention as Madam Malkin simpered to him about what a wonderful lad he was, standing so still, and immediately zoned out again.

He was allowed to be miserable. He'd still try to accomplish his goal, of course—he'd prefer it if everything and everyone he'd ever known didn't vanish from existence—but no one said he'd have to be happy go lucky while he did it.

…That felt a bit too whiny.

It wasn't like he was going to sink into a depression (at least, he didn't think he would.) He was, somewhat, able to notice and genuinely feel happy about the good things that were happening—a significantly better home and school life, Professor McGonagall being far more actively interested in him then he remembered her being, actually getting a second chance at all…

But at the end of the day the things that weren't going so well were never going to go well. There wasn't, to his knowledge, any way of vastly increasing one's intelligence—there was the wit-sharpening potion, but there was also the extreme negative effects of taking it. There also wasn't any real way for him, with the mind of an adult, to have any sort of fulfilling social life with only pre-teens.

Of course, he could—his thought process paused as Professor McGonagall led him back into the alley, now talking about getting him a trunk—he could simply tell people. Tell them about how he had been sent back in time, and management's goals, and the burden that had been placed on him. But, as far as he could figure, that only had two possible outcomes: they'd either think he was crazy, and toss him in the loony-bin, or they'd think he was telling the truth, and lock him in some government testing center (probably, in all likelihood, with the Unspeakables.) Not to mention, as far as he could tell none of the other travelers had said anything either, and given the already blatant changes he could assume a number of them to be adults. So he'd stay quiet, like they were. Too risky, really.

Harry grimaced. In front of him Professor McGonagall didn't notice, instead talking to the owner of the trunk store about adding a minor security mechanism to the standard school trunks—apparently theft had always been somewhat of a problem, but because actually adding magically-defensible locks to the trunk meant admitting that, officially Hogwarts didn't recommend it and it was cheaper without.

Harry didn't remember being stolen from, but he did know that that was certainly a problem Luna had to deal with, and he also remembered how easy it had been to get into Fluffy's room, so he was with Professor McGonagall—the school had to care about the "image" of using actually useful locks a lot less and care about the safety of the students a lot more.

That was certainly something to think about, in the long term—based on his memories and what few interactions he'd had in the magical world since he'd come back, image was everything in the magical world, even more so than in its muggle counterpart. He himself had personally felt the effects of mudslinging, and he wasn't eager to repeat the experience, so he'd have to start considering how to deal with the news industry as soon as possible.

Actually, there were probably a couple of books on the Daily Prophet. He'd have to make sure to check them out when they actually got to Flourish and Blotts.

He was actually looking forward to going to Flourish and Blotts. Hermione, his Hermione, would have been so happy.

He wondered if this one, too, would also be happy, even if it was just to know that there was another, apparent, bibliophile in Gryffindor. That was a better outcome than her being jealous. Should he introduce himself to her? Something to think about closer to the train ride, to be sure.

Harry coughed. He and Professor McGonagall had just entered an apothecary's shop. This one didn't look like the one he'd went to with Hagrid—it seemed to have less variety but larger amounts. Harry guessed that the other one was more geared towards specialists—this one, on the other hand, seemed more generic, with large print labels on everything and pre-measured containers. There was also a giant stack of "Hogwarts X-Year Kits" in the middle. Professor McGonagall had already nabbed a first year one, but asked him if he thought he'd be interested in potions. Harry shrugged and said that he liked chemistry, so probably. Professor McGonagall bought a "bonus first year" kit too.

Harry, in the meantime, opened his current goals list. It was… long. The most immediate one was Bookworm, or a more varied magical book selection, which he'd deal with at Flourish and Blotts. That one would actually feed into a couple more of what he had to do—he could figure out some more about his fame (Fickle Fame), by buying books about himself (and didn't that make him feel egotistic.) He didn't think it would be much of a help in figuring out why he was a Dursley Resident, but he could buy some books on the magical economy to accomplish the Personal Finance goal, which hadn't been completed with the visit to Gringotts, as well as some books on magical law, particularly on exoneration and the justice system in general, for Long Overdue, An Innocent Man, Wriggling Wormtail, Unctuous Umbridge, and Crouch, Crouch, (wow, he was going to be spending a lot of time with the legal system) and some books on journalism for Lying Lockhart, Libel and Slander, and Journalistic Integrity. What else…

Books on language for Speak to Me was a must. For all he knew there was a magical way to learn language, which would be incredibly convenient. Books on occlumency, if there were any, was also very necessary, but he remembered some comments from Dumbledore and Snape both implying that they might be restricted. In order to prepare for Hogwarts in general, as well as Professional Standards, he was basically required to purchase Hogwarts, A History (Hermione would have been so happy.) He should also try to find any book on magical science (if there were any) for Improve, Improve, Improve.

Finally, any book whatsoever on magic was high on his list. Magic was, amazingly enough, an integral part of the Magical World, and the more he knew about it the better, not only for accomplishing his entire-world-is-dependent-on-me goals, but also to get rid of Voldemort so that he'd even have a chance of completing them.

And the entire time he did all this he had to keep Professor McGonagall from being suspicious.

Suspicious of what though? He paused, considering, and decided that the only thing he was truly worried about was Professor McGonagall assuming he was dark, or dark-inclined, or effected by Voldemort's so-called "curse-scar" in any way.

In the short term, none of the books that he wanted to buy would give her that impression.

So really, all he had to worry about was actually being allowed to buy as many books as he wanted to (a very different problem then he'd ever had in his first life, and one that he suddenly found himself excited to face—the idea of getting the stern and usually uncompromising Professor McGonagall to cave to his begging was, in all honesty, quite a pleasant thought.)

"And now, Mr. Potter," Professor McGonagall said, leading him out of an enchantments shop which sold the telescope he needed, "all we have left is your wand and the bookstore." She glanced at him. "Wand first, I think. You've been eying Flourish and Blotts since we've arrived and if you're anything like your mother you'll have to be bribed out of the store, so its best to get the rest of the shopping done first." Harry smiled, nodding and trying not to show how much his plans had mimicked her own worries, and she turned and moved towards Ollivander's, saying offhandedly as she did, "it'll be nice to know what your wand is too. They say a lot about you, you know."

Harry grimaced, remembering Ollivander's comments in his first lifetime. He was suddenly in a significantly less pleasant mood—and after all the effort it had taken to get him into one in the first place!