Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter or any characters.
Integrating the new set of memories wasn't as painful as it had been the last time. Harry supposed that his brain was getting used to pulling in the new memories. That didn't mean that he didn't space out for a couple minutes.
"Sir? Sir, are you alright?"
Harry blinked and focused in on Jones' concerned face. It was interesting that this old man actually cared about him, even if everyone else in this world thought he was an arrogant, idiotic drunkard of a playboy.
"Yes, Jones. I'm alright, I just blanked out. I don't think I should drink that much again."
"Sir, you say that every morning." As Jones said this he crisply grabbed a comb and ran it through Harry's hair. It didn't do much good.
"Well, this time I mean it. Why are you combing my hair? It does no good."
"It's my job to do this." Jones stepped back and looked Harry up and down. There was a pleased expression on his face. "Yes, I do believe you're presentable now, sir. Your parents are waiting for you in the blue parlor."
Harry nodded, "Thanks, Jones."
"No problem at all, sir. Will you need my services sometime soon?" Jones began tidying up the already neat counter.
Harry felt torn, he wanted to let this kind old man go and relax, but he also wanted to keep him close. Except for his mother, this was probably the only person in this world that would care if he dropped dead. After a minute of deliberation Harry decided to push the decision off until later.
"Let me see what my parents have to say first. I may need you."
"Very well, sir. I shall remain here in my suite. Just send me a text with your decision."
Harry nodded and left the bathroom. As he crossed the opulent bedroom he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed. Why was he so wealthy? Or rather, why were his parents so wealthy?
Harry gave his head a shake at the last thought. It wasn't his parents that were wealthy; it was his stepfather – his wonderfully lovely stepfather that might've had a hand in his father's conviction and death.
Not that his Money Memory self had ever spent much time dwelling on his father or the past. Not since he'd been locked in a cell without food for a week just for asking what treasonous thing his father had done. That had been when he was eleven and his mother had been out of the country on business – she'd never heard about it.
There had been a lot of things his mother had never heard about.
When he was thirteen he was sent off to Eton as an Oppidan. He'd been an unusually small and scrawny thirteen year old, which hadn't endeared him to his classmates. The only thing that had saved him socially was his stepfather's power. Very few of the boys at Eton could say that their father was among the ten most powerful men in England, let alone Europe.
So, Harry hadn't had any close friends during his time there, but at least he'd had people to eat, study, and hang out with. That is, he had that for the first two years.
It was at the beginning of his third year there that his stepfather had come for a visit without Harry's mother. It had only taken five minutes for everyone to see that Harry was hated by his stepfather.
Five minutes after that Harry found himself completely alone. No longer did he have anyone to sit with while he ate. People refused to sit at the same table as him in the library, let alone study with him. And forget about hanging out. No one wanted anything to do with him now that they knew it wouldn't help their career.
Depressed and alone Harry had found himself wandering through town, trying to put off going back to the aloneness of his dorm. That was when he had bumped into a tall, bearded man. From where he had fallen on the sidewalk Harry looked up to see the largest man he had ever seen. After making sure Harry was alright, Hagrid had asked him into his club for a cup of tea.
Harry smiled unconsciously at the thought of Hagrid, it had been so long since he'd seen him.
It turned out that Hagrid ran a hunting club in this world. Over time Harry had spent more and more of his free time at the club with Hagrid. Eventually he'd learned how to track, ride a horse, and fire a multitude of different guns. During a special demonstration he'd even learned how to aim, fire, and clean an AK-47. Those had been the best moments of his life.
Lily had never learned about any of that. Whenever she visited Harry would bribe and bully his classmates into pretending to be his friend. They only agreed when they realized that making Harry's mother unhappy would make unpleasant waves in their future political careers.
She was one of the most famous women in the world. After all, you can't help being famous if you're the one to design the remodel of Versailles, Buckingham Palace, and Hofburg Imperial Palace. And she was married to one of the most important politicians in the world – or the only part of the world that really counted at least.
After Eton had come Oxford. Harry couldn't be sure if he had graduated from there because he had put forth just enough effort or because everyone was afraid to find out what happened if he failed.
Unfortunately Hagrid wasn't around when Harry went on to Oxford. So he had gotten no good advice when he discovered girls (Eton was an all boys school) and alcohol. He did manage to stay away from the drugs scene, not because he didn't want another stimulant, but because he didn't want to risk ruining his marksmanship skill. While at Oxford Harry joined another hunting club, but found no real friends there, they were all a bit too worried about Harry's stepfather.
By the time he (somehow) graduated he never spent a night sober. It made dealing with his stepfather so much easier.
Harry blinked and jerked himself out of his memories when he noticed that his feet had stopped moving. It took a moment for him to realize that he was now standing outside of an elaborately carved door that was twice his height.
Taking a deep breath and composing his features Harry knocked lightly on the door.
A second later a warm, loving voice called out, "Come in."
Carefully Harry pushed open the door and stepped into the tastefully decorated Blue Parlor. He had to blink a couple of times to let his eyes adjust to the bright rays of sunlight pouring in through the floor to ceiling windows.
Once he could see again he noticed that his mother relaxing on a sedan with a sketchpad across her lap. She looked up as he entered and smiled.
Harry couldn't help but smile back. It wasn't very often that his Money Memory self got to be alone with his mother. Usually his stepfather was there also.
"Hello, Mom," As Harry said this he quickly strode across the room to give her a hug.
As they embraced Harry breathed in her perfume and let himself relax just a bit. At least his mother was alive, well, and still a part of his life.
"Hello, Harry dear." She pulled back and studied his face for a moment, "You're hungover again." It wasn't a question.
Harry shrugged and pulled out his most common response from his new set of memories, "Of course I am, it's only ten in the morning."
Lily's face grew concerned, "Harry you need to take care of yourself. You're much too old to be partying like this. That's actually why I wanted to talk to you this morning."
"Oh?" Harry kept his voice casual as he took a seat on the couch across from her.
"Yes, your father and I have been talking and we think it's high time you began doing your part for the nation. We won't always be here to support you after all."
Harry kept silent and simply nodded. He really had no idea where she was going with this. His headache was almost gone, but his reasoning skills were still a little sluggish.
Lily took his nod to mean that he agreed with her. "Good, now, here's the plan. One of your father's colleagues has a son about your age. He's agreed to take you under his wing and show you the ropes. Actually, you may have heard of him, I think you went to Eton and Oxford together. I don't know if your paths crossed though, he was a King's Scholar at Eton and top of his class at Oxford while you…"
Harry knew why she didn't finish her sentence. A King's Scholar wasn't likely to spend lots of time with a Oppidan that barely graduated and someone at the top of the class at Oxford wasn't likely to be friends with the bottom of the class.
"Who is it?" Harry was curious; he really hadn't kept track of the fourteen King's Scholars in his year to find out what university they went to. At this thought Harry dug his finger nail into his thumb in the attempt to remind himself that he really hadn't gone to Eton, his Money Memory self had been the one to do that.
He had to keep himself on track, he was probably never going to get back to Hogwarts and his Magic Memories (it had been eighteen years after all), but that didn't mean he shouldn't do the best he could with what he had now and that meant he had better stop thinking and start listening.
"You remember Lucius Malfoy?"
Harry tensed up at the mention of a Malfoy. At least it wasn't Draco; still, Malfoy's were like ants. If you found one, more were likely to be around. To appease his mother though he nodded stiffly.
Lilly smiled, too caught up in talking to notice Harry's clenched fists.
"Good! I told Severus that you would. Now, it's his son that will be lending you a hand, Draco Malfoy. You're going to start working with him tomorrow morning and I want you to put in at least forty hours a week. Alright?"
NO! Harry wanted to shout, but instead he just nodded stiffly and stood up to leave. It took all of his strength to not start screaming and shouting, like he had when he was fifteen. He was an adult; adults don't lose their temper over having to work with someone they can't stand. Though….Harry paused, he might be forgiven for losing his temper over having to work with the person that had just killed him mere hours earlier.
Except that wasn't a good enough excuse here, this Draco had never killed Harry, or even tried to kill him. The most he had ever done was ignore him, which, honestly, was the best thing he had ever done to Harry. Funny that the kindest thing someone had ever done was ignore him.
Smiling harshly at his own twisted humor Harry headed for the door, not trusting himself to say anything more to his mother.
As he was reaching for the handle the door opened.
There, standing in the opening, was the one person that had ever stood the chance of helping Harry out of this vicious cycle of memories and worlds. But, in this world, he really didn't look like he wanted to help Harry hang a picture, let alone rescue him.
"Ah…," his stepfather said coldly, "leaving so soon Harry? Did your mother not offer you a drink quickly enough?"
Harry couldn't help but feel a trickle of fear at the sight of Snape perfectly groomed and in a military uniform.
Author's Note: Well, boys and girls, here you are – another segment in 'The Real Memory'. I'd like to thank all of you so much for all of the reviews, alerts, and faves this story got last weekend. It still shocks me how popular this story has gotten. Who knew a wild hair I would get at 3am from an odd little crossover would spawn this?
Did anyone figure out who the stepfather was before the last line?
Oh, also, yes guns are legal here in this world. Harry doesn't comment on it since they were legal in the last world.
Also, who was happy to see Hagrid? Don't worry, he'll be back again, I'm not through with him yet. :D
Per Nicluvly's request:
Eton is an all boys school that's been around since the late middle ages. It keeps the boys for five years (13-18). I think it was Justin Finch-Fletchly who said in the book series that he was supposed to go to Eton. There's a lot more interesting stuff on this school, go look at Wikipedia if you're interested.
Oxford is the oldest English-speaking University in the world. It's older than Eton and has wonderful reputation.
Hint, hint, I'm trying to say something by picking these schools...
Well, have a lovely week. I have lots to do today – two observations this week, my seminar, oh, and my teacher is gone all week so it's just me and a sub. Wish me luck!
Oh, don't forget to check out the Harry Potter survey on my profile.
Enjoy! Read! Review!