Harry had finally gotten through the emotions of the past few months of his former self and found out what had been the catalyst to bring him here. Interestingly enough, it had revolved around Quidditch. Earlier-Harry had just finished 5th grade but wasn't sure what to expect. He'd never been that magically adept. The more that Harry thought about it, the then-Harry sounded more like the Neville he knew. He thought himself practically a squib. He couldn't even manage to stay on a broom for any length of time before falling or his nerves getting the better of him.
Then the letter from Hogwarts came. It wasn't an official letter, but more of a promise of a letter. Truthfully, Harry suspected his parents had asked the Minerva to send it so Harry could enjoy the summer vs. agonizing if he would be accepted or not. So the letter had come. Earlier-Harry, in a convoluted twist of logic, thought the best way to win the approval of his parents would be to become a better all-around student. He started reading that day, and that night decided to try mastering a broom and be like his dad. The broom had gotten away from him and by the time he'd gotten it back under control (as it were), he was spiraling down towards a tombstone in the graveyard. So something had to have happened at that time to cause the two Harry's to switch. At least, Harry hoped they switched. If not, then the momentum that earlier-Harry had picked up on the broom could have been fatal if no treatment was available.
Harry hadn't really strayed from where the earlier-Harry had wanted to go. The significant difference was obviously in age, knowledge (or foreknowledge in his case), and power. The other Harry had low self esteem. Harry knew he didn't have that problem as the magical suppressor continued to remind him. Just last night he'd had to shadow travel to the Hawaiian Islands and let loose some discharge alongside some lava eruptions.
The other-Harry had enjoyed playing pranks. More like, really enjoyed playing them. He was almost as bad as the Weasley twins when it came to pranks. In that one sole regard, he was better at that craft than Harry, who was able to come up with a good one only every now and then. God, Harry wished his other self a good life in case they never reversed dimensions.
"How do you like your gruel, Rose?" Harry said, dishing up something more palatable for Shelia.
"Swell. It tastes like eggs, only with some odd herbs."
"It's called cilantro."
"I didn't know we had cilantro," Lily said.
"We didn't. I had to get some from in town. I special ordered it."
"You knew you were going to start making breakfasts then? And you made me beg you to do it?" Shelia accused.
Harry smirked. "What can I say? I'm devious that way."
"Ah, I don't mind. This is still pretty good."
"Harry, how did you pay for these? I don't recall you getting your allowance for the past month."
"Uh, I had them charge it to our account."
"Oh. Okay. Really, honey, if you need some money, just ask. Now once you're done eating, let's get cleaned up and going to Diagon Alley."
"But what are dad and Leon going to eat?" said Rose.
"Seeing as how they can't be bothered to come down and eat with the rest of us - oh, good morning Sylvia, Lily - then they can do with some cereal."
"Or gruel," suggested Rose.
"Or gruel," her mum agreed.
...
Harry found that he loved hanging out with his mother. Some would say he was a mama's boy, and he'd probably be the first to agree with that statement, but he enjoyed her company. It startled him to think that she was related to Petunia Dursley, Mrs. Cold herself. The only emotion his aunt had ever shown him in the 15 years he'd lived with them was contempt or loathing. To have a parent figure actually show something like concern, or like enjoyment was a big step forward.
Harry knew that he should have told his parents, his mother especially about his shadow abilities. But that lingering thought of him being rejected kept him from telling them. He had rationalized it by coming to the conclusion that there was simply no way he could go to his parents and say, Hi, I don't want to alarm you but I'm a lot more powerful than anyone else in this world, including Neville Longbottom who survived a killing curse. You know why, because I did the same. Oh, and I'm a Shadow Mage to boot. So what's for dinner?
Not only would they not believe him, but would consider him a braggart which was something he never aspired to be even in his own dimension, Snape's accusations notwithstanding. Harry knew he'd have to tell his family of his abilities sooner than later, but became selfish in his desire to have a family. If they were going to ostracize him once they found out who he actually was, then he wanted to get as many good family memories to take with him. They may not want him once they find out about his past, but he wanted them - even if it was only in memories.
....
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