Harry wakes up in his bed and looks around to see a small room, that's still bigger than the cupboard.
"The small orphanage I'm residing on is a definite improvement from the stupid cupboard". Harry says with a drowsy voice as this body was sleeping just a moment ago.
'Anyway, what is my life like? Reviewing my new memories, I live in a magical orphanage that recently acquired a new caretaker. She works here full-time, though she is quite bad at her job, even though all the children want to be taken care of by her. (for various reasons)
She is was only kept employed because she is a veela (that makes her automatically get paid less, stupid racism) and she's one of the only ones that can withstand been near me without feeling like they have to breastfeed me constantly. I say she is bad at her job, but really, the problem is she is naive (dumb).
I suppose Fleur set an unreasonable expectation in my head that veela were smart, as well as beautiful. My caretaker, Isabella, is basically a stereotypical dumb blonde. My new memories tell me that she was a close friend of my mother.
I'm curious about something, though. My mum is a veela, so my father had to be a muggle. How? Like, how did she even find him? I cast my mind out with my new perk Memory Spell Specialist and find her mind in the kitchen, cooking breakfast. Looking through her memories, I find the answers to my questions about my father.
It is really strange.
During the war, my mother was, at one time, kidnapped by Death Eaters, apparently in response to her being non-human and being at the wrong place, at the wrong time; never mind that she was just a secretary at the time, working for the whatever lecherous wizard would hire her.
They were, of course, intending to rape her, but Voldemort himself had been visiting that particular base when they got her back there. Rather than allow his followers to dirty themselves rutting with a sub-human, he ordered her locked in a room with all of the human sacrifices that were prepared for the various dark rituals he and his followers regularly partake.
The only reason she survived the encounter is that the Order of the Phoenix raided that base pretty much just as my father was having his way with my mother. This was one of the times that James and Lily fought Voldemort himself (one of three times they defied him), I suppose that's where the rest of my physical stats will come from, as all the other sacrifices were too weak to even try something with her.
She doesn't remember any of this, though she knows it happened, because the default solution to traumatic memories in the wizarding world is to erase them. Because of this, when the healers informed her that my mother's rape had resulted in a pregnancy and offered to terminate it, she wasn't traumatized enough to hate me and was glad to be pregnant.
Fuck, that is all a very depressing story.
I almost feel bad for what I have already decided to do.
I start changing things about my mother's mind from my bed. First, she remembers that she is going to be going to travel around the world, once I have started Hogwarts. She is, now, planning to send an owl later today with her resignation from her job at the orphanage, knowing that I have, somehow, come into a lot of money and will be providing for us.
She doesn't question any of this, because she isn't the sharpest tool in the shed and she trusts me implicitly. She already does, but I push that trust up to a, frankly, ridiculous extent, and adjust her to be even more naive and innocent. As things go, now, as long as I don't physically harm her, she will assume that anything I do is innocent and won't think ill of it at all. Even if I do harm her by accident her, if she can rationalize it away as an accident, she will.
On top of that, I alter our relationship, slightly. Previously, she was a caretaker; I got away with a lot just because this body was smarter than her, but she would be 'firm' when she needed to be (namely if anybody was seeing us in public). Now, she will spoil me.
In fact, she will not be able to deny me almost anything I want.
Deciding I've accomplished what I want, I get out of bed and head to the kitchen, still in my boxers. This isn't new. My memories of my caretaker show that she is very lax about standards of dress concerning us. It isn't that she is trying to be sexy, just that no one in her life has ever told her to put on more clothes, so she doesn't see it as a big deal to wander the house in underwear. It is also summer and quite hot.
In the kitchen, I get my first look at my sexy caretaker, Isabella.