The Wish Giver
Warnings: Angst, FLUFF, Ron Weasley is the best boi, Harry Needs a Hug
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The first time someone said the right words in front of Harry, something just seemed to click at the back of his mind. That unsettled, restless sensation that never seemed to go away went quiet.
Finally, something whispered.
Finally what? He wondered.
But no. The right words were still being spoken. And he still had to listen.
"It's not fair," they repeated foolishly in front of Harry. "I wish I had a better family."
Every bit of Harry seemed magnetized to respond to those words. He didn't understand it. At the back of his mind, where he had always thought about things that he didn't say to anybody, he whispered to himself, NOTHING IS FAIR.
"What would you give for it?" he asked, the words seemingly tumbling out of his mouth. They felt like English, but he couldn't be sure. "If I granted your wish. What would you give for it?"
The girl looked unsure and terrified. Harry wasn't sure why. That was their wish, wasn't it?
"What would you give for it?" he repeated.
Monotonous, but it had to be three times.
"I – I," she stammered.
A smile stretched across his face. "Are you unsure? Do you wish to take back your words?" he asked, the latter sentence gaining a weight to it that can't come from a human throat.
The girl ran off, and Harry came back to himself.
He wasn't very troubled about the idea of being some sort of sinister version of a wish granting genie. Words were very important. Being a wizard had always meant a care on words anyway.
Still, he made a note to tell his friends. Prior warning would always be nice.
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The next time someone made the mistake of speaking the right words in front of Harry, he was in the beach, trying to relax.
A child - it was always a child, wasn't it? – was throwing a tantrum because his mother wanted him to babysit his younger siblings.
"It's not fair!" he shrieked. "You said this was a vacation! What about my vacation!? I wish you were more responsible!"
The words. The proper three words always caught his attention like a properly polarized magnet. He wistfully thought that maybe, whoever thought these things up should have made the proper words longer.
Harry didn't say anything, because the mother was there and looking very embarrassed. There was always time to bargain later. He knew it. Those three words would ensure that bargaining would happen.
He waited until the sun was setting and the child was wandering alone. It was at that point in the beach where the only people left were stragglers. Everyone else were properly partying and getting drunk.
"I heard what you said earlier," Harry said, that slight smile on his face again. "Do you still wish it?"
The child, almost a teenager really, looked up from where he was drawing on the sand.
"Everyone heard me call my mum a bad one," the boy sighed. "She's really angry at me right now."
The pull was still there, but not as strong. Harry didn't feel the urge to ask three times. So he waited.
The boy pushed the stick deep into the sand and looked Harry in the eyes. "Of course I still want it. I wish my mother were more responsible."
Harry didn't blink. "What would you give for it?" he asked.
The boy seemed to understand what was going on. Good. That made one of them. "What do you need me to give?"
Harry smiled and took what remained of the boy's innocence. "The world will be darker now," he whispered as the boy went unconscious. "But it will be better."
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Harry kept the things he took from people in exchange for granting the wishes.
He didn't even know some of the spells that granted people's wishes, but the pentagrams and alchemical theories to make it happen always came to him once his clients – and he had hesitated calling them clients – paid. Payment always happened once they made their wish. Whether they wanted to or not, they always paid.
Harry sometimes didn't want to; sometimes the price they paid was too steep. But it was the scale of it. He made them pay it, the poor people. They were not unknowing. No. Sometimes, the knowledge in their eyes seemed older than magic itself.
And then, one day, space and time warped in front of Harry and he knew. This was a Visitor.
A redheaded woman with green eyes stepped out of the warping space and her green eyes met Harry's and he just knew.
"He's just a baby," his mother from another dimension/time or reality, begged. "It's not fair for him to suffer for the sins of the previous generation, just because a prophecy said so!"
Harry should be panicking.
Except. His mind was numb, his emotions were just gone.
"And what would you give for his protection? You wish for his happiness?" the magic asked through Harry.
Lily went to her knees, arms in a facsimile of a cradle, likely imagining the infant she left behind in her dimension.
"I want him to live. I want him to find happiness. I want him to grow up, knowing he was loved, even if I am dead," she declared. There was a weight behind her voice.
Harry and the magic moving through him smiled. This was a woman who knew what it meant to say the proper words. She had done her research properly.
"I am prepared to offer my soul," she said with grave finality.
Harry shook his head. Human souls were worth so much. Asking that for a payment was just a last resort. He couldn't hold it anyway. Not yet. He wasn't powerful enough to hold souls.
"Let us not go that far," he murmured, closing his eyes. He balanced the scales in his mind, thinking about her wishes.
A life. Happiness. Love. Three things, but three very powerful things.
"You asked for three things for your son," Harry eventually said, feeling the drag of another multitude of voices speaking with him. "And I will grant it. In exchange you will give me three memories. Three of the most important memories of your life."
Lily did not attempt to bargain. The magic took the three memories without his input with just a gesture. He sealed them away in a flask, slightly dimming the glow. They were very important, because they shone with such light. Lily was a woman who felt deeply and without reserve.
In exchange, Harry got the necklace made from the starball of a fox wife. It practically exuded positivity, luck and immense protection. Fox wives were really amazing.
"You must have him wear this," Harry said, giving her the necklace. "With your payment, he will know your love, and is already protected. This necklace will ensure he will get happiness."
"Can it be spelled?" she asked, mind obviously working. "I will make sure it is bound to his blood."
Harry's lips quirked into a smile. "It can be spelled with positive intent only. If you think about anything negative while doing the casting, the necklace will reject it."
Lily Potter left, clutching the necklace like a lifeline.
The moment the portal closed, Harry Potter sat on his lawn and cried.
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Harry had told his friends and his family to be careful about the words they say around him.
He loved them all and wanted their happiness, but sometimes, wishes were double edged swords and he didn't want them to ever be on the receiving end of the wishes he granted.
Except.
Sometimes, no matter how careful, someone always made a mistake.
"It's not fair!," Victoire Weasley shouted during a family dinner, making Harry's head snap towards her so fast that he's a bit surprised he didn't get a crick on his neck.
Ginny went pale and Bill had stood up, covering his daughter from view, hand tight on his wand.
Except.
Nobody thought to cover Victoire's mouth.
"I wish I was an only child!" she continued.
Harry stood up and Bill hurriedly shushed the child.
"Harry, please. She doesn't understand," Bill said, pulling Victoire tight against him.
Harry shook his head. He knelt beside the girl and her teary face would normally have him sympathetic. Except this time, she had said the words.
"Victoire Weasley," Harry said, eyes unknowingly flashing a bright white. "You have a wish. If I took away your little brother, what would you give for it?"
For the first time, Victoire seemed to understand the gravity of the situation. She trembled and shook her head.
"What would you give for it?" he asked again.
She kept her mouth closed, eyes wide with terror.
"You would give nothing?" he asked, the sound of a door closing echoing around him. "Well then, do you wish to take back your words?"
She nodded.
"Learn to weigh what you say, child," he said. "A second offense, and I will not be lenient."
Harry left the family gathering in a hurry, pausing only to vomit on the bushes. He had almost taken Louis Weasley. It's a good thing that the magic allowed him to give people chances to back out of their wishes.
He would never return to family gatherings.
He would never chance that again.
It was too close.
And the expression of terror on the Weasley's faces was something he never wanted to see again.
It was the first time he ever thought about his new abilities as a curse. It won't be the last.
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Because Ron was the friend Harry didn't deserve, he hunted Harry down before Harry could apparate to the North Pole and get hypothermia.
"Harry, you better open this door, or I'd find Hermione and get her to charm your door to invite the reporters in," Ron yelled.
Harry fell off the sofa with a yelp, knowing that Ron was absolutely serious and had no qualms about hitting below the belt just to get Harry to open the door.
He was prepared for a punch or a hex to the face. He was not prepared to be hugged within an inch of his life.
And Harry just broke.
"I'm sorry," he sobbed. "I almost took Louis. I shouldn't be around children."
Ron shushed him, petting his hair and looking a bit teary eyed himself. "Not around children that young, no. But you can still be around children that know, Harry."
The red-head knew how much Harry loved children. Being unable to be near children because of his curse would be a cruel and unjust punishment.
"B-but – " he stammered.
Ron shushed him again. "It's alright. Bill isn't even mad. Victoire knew what would happen if she said the right words around you. So. She got scolded within an inch of her life the moment you left. Mum told me to fetch you immediately, but Hermione said you needed a bit of time to get a drink for your nerves."
Harry did not drink. Absolutely not. Having the kind of curse he had on himself while drinking seemed like a bad idea all around. He might accidentally wander outside and hear somebody's inadvertent wish and grant it unknowingly.
So no, no matter how much he wanted to, he couldn't get as drunk as he wanted. The thought was appreciated though.
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Harry restricted himself from going near children below six years old. It was just better for everyone.
However, it doesn't solve all problems.
"You're pregnant?" he squeaked.
Ginny nodded, eyes shining. "It's yours."
Harry's eyes go round. "I'm going to be a father!" he exclaimed. Then the dread. "I'm going to be a father!"
She laughed but her eyes were worried too. It would break Harry if he had to grant an inadvertent wish from his own child.
"We'll figure it out," she whispered. "Don't worry."
But Harry worried.
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James was born with bright eyes and a happy smile, the nature of Harry's curse seemingly not affecting him at all.
But sometimes, Harry wondered. James smiled, but his eyes were old.
He thought his careful movements weren't noticed, but he really can't fool Ginny.
"He's not even talking," Ginny said, looking exasperated. She's smiling at least, but it doesn't disguise the tense knot in her shoulders.
Harry nodded, conceding her point. As long as James couldn't talk, then Harry could stay around his son without worrying.
Babies talked within two years. Full sentences beyond that. Harry only had a year or so to hold his son close and not be afraid that the curse inside him would grant a terrible thing.
"My son, my joy, my most precious thing," he whispered to the sleeping child. "If I could grant my own wish, I would give you happiness. No matter how bad your life may get, may you know a measure of happiness."
James slept on, uncaring.
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James's first word caused two conflicting emotions in him. Terror and elation. It was dada.
Harry hugged Ginny tight to relieve his feelings. Ginny laughed.
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Harry figured out a system when a second Visitor appeared as he was gardening.
"I have a Wish," an alternate of Draco Malfoy announced, looking far too worn and weary than any person should be.
The words tugged at Harry, but not as much as the usual rant about fairness. It was...kinder.
Harry blinked when he realized that the curse didn't take control of him but let him seat alt-Draco in the garden table and pour him tea. The other words made the curse was more immediate. There was no time for sitting down and pouring tea.
"There will be payment," Harry said, sipping his cup. "You should be aware."
Draco nodded, grim and determined. "I am willing to pay any price."
People usually were.
"Tell me your Wish then," Harry said, the words weighing like boulders as they rolled of his tongue.
Draco straightened up even further in his seat. "I wish for the ability to jump in the past to alter the timeline."
Without meaning to, Harry's eyes flashed white as he looked into why that was.
Draco wanted the means to change timelines because he had loved a Harry Potter and that Harry had died. So he wanted to alter the timeline to give Voldemort a proper childhood.
He wanted to alter the timeline to shatter the blood oath that bound Dumbledore's hands from the war, so that Grindelwald's war would not spread across the world but would be contained only in two years and merely be called an incident. So that the casualties would not kill an entire branch of the Potters.
Harry blinked twice and his eyes lost their unearthly glow. "That is a very selfless wish. I can grant it. The price..."
The price was rather steep. Harry wanted to cringe but kinder or not, he was still bound by his curse. Everything was supposed to have a balance.
"The price is your Name," Harry said. He hated it. Except. It balanced out. "You may travel any time and change timelines with little deeds. Except you can give people no name. People will name you. You can accept a name once given to you, but you can never give a name."
Draco was pale as he accepted the large, golden hourglass that Harry gave him but there was a light in his eyes that wasn't there before.
Harry watched him go through the portal and couldn't help but worry. Still, it was Draco. He'd be fine.
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So, Harry here is sorta like a cross between the Goblin King and Yuuko Ichihara. I don't know, what even am I writing?
Tying up loose ends:
By the time James turned a year old, Harry had figured out how to turn off the curse, even if it was just for an hour.
Please review!