Disclaimer: Harry Potter and any such related characters/symbols/ideas/etc. are in direct correlation to J.K. Rowling as of the year 2010/2011.

Warnings: Rated T for mild language and sexual themes. Nothing mature: PG-13. Warning: plausible character death(s).

Full Category: Semi-Romance/Adventure/Humor/Minor Drama/Minor Angst

Summary: Harry sacrifices himself, only to find out that Voldemort has more than seven hocruxes. He decides to make a wish and go back in time. It doesn't work out so well. He ends up in James Potter's body in an alternate reality. He's told that he has to keep up the image that he is in fact still James Potter. And that includes flirting with Lily Evans, playing random pranks on the school, and other Marauder stuff. Harry Potter never did have a normal life before. Why should he now? And what happens when he actually falls for Lily Evans? Note: under construction. Revisions are taking place.

One Wish, Seven Words

Harry glared up at Voldemort. He stared into the evil man's hollow, cold, and bitter red eyes. He sighed, gulped, and closed his own eyes. He was ready to die.

He could hear the Death Eaters jeering their lord to kill the chosen one. He could hear the wind silently weeping for the fated one. He could hear the trees swaying in a regular motion, bowing to Harry's selfless sacrifice. He had to die.

He could smell the bitter sweetness of the damp leaves and tress around him. He could taste the blood on his lips, salty and sour.

Yet, he could see nothing. He needn't see anything. He had to die.

He was a martyr. Was he the only martyr? Maybe.

Harry waited. There was eerie silence. What was taking so long?

He squinted and took a peek, a peek at death.

Voldemort smirked and raised his wand. His head was still tilted to one side, like a curious child, wondering what would happen if he proceeded. Harry looked back into the red eyes, and wanted it to happen now, quickly, while he could still stand, before he lost control, before he betrayed fear — he saw the mouth move and a flash of green light, and everything was gone (Deathly Hallows,Page 704).

A scream, a laugh, a cry: these are emotions embedded within the human mind. They are part of Human Nature. But was he still human then? He didn't know. So he remained silent. Silence is the key to many situations.

He breathed in the silence. His eyes remained shut. Was this how it felt like to be dead? He was numb. And then he heard a voice: a gentle one, full of remorse and regret.

"You can get up now." Harry opened his eyes and was quick to grasp his surroundings. He was at King's Cross. The train station was abandoned. Directly stationed in front of him, was the Hogwarts Express. But the train was black, not the glistening red he remembered it to be.

And not five feet from him lay an armchair. Sitting on top, merrily sucking on some sort of candy, was none other than Albus Percival Wulfric Dumbledore. His eyes twinkled down at Harry.

"S-sir?" Harry rasped out. He gasped. He could still speak? Harry frowned and examined his own hands cautiously, afraid that they might fall off to the ground at any second. They shone brightly under the vibrant moonlight. He looked up at his zenith. Clouds, endless clouds, like those in a dream. They continued to roll across the gloomy and dark sky, in a somewhat soothing manner. There was too much silence. But it was nice to have silence once in a while. He looked back at the headmaster, claimed to be dead. And then, he asked the only logical question: "Am I dead?"

Dumbledore stopped sucking on his lemon drop and sighed, gazing back up at the clouds. Harry followed his gaze, utterly befuddled. He looked back at Dumbledore. The headmaster stroked his long white beard. The elder man fumbled a bit with the tight knots buried deep within it. And then, the old man spoke: "Time, Mr. Potter. Time."

Harry looked back at his former headmaster. "Um . . . what?" He clenched his teeth. Honestly, couldn't Dumbledore just speak like a normal person? Harry hated riddles.

As if reading Harry's mind, the old man smiled. "Time, Mr. Potter, is a great thing. It has never been manipulated by ordinary wizards before. But you, Harry, are not ordinary."

Harry scoffed. Of course! Harry was extraordinary . . . great! Just what he needed to make his day! "Okay, enough with the riddles, sir. Am I or am I not dead?" Harry ran a hand through his hair. He rubbed his sore neck.

Dumbledore smiled again. "Well, it depends. You see, you're a ho—"

Harry rolled his eyes in frustration and cut his professor off. "Hocrux." Dumbledore gaped and then smiled at the young man, shaking his head in awe. "I figured it out. It's how Voldemort and I had a connection in the first place. But go on, am I dead? Is the hocrux gone? Can Voldemort be killed once and for all?"

Dumbledore's demeanor changed. "I'm afraid not." Harry made fists with his hands and banged them against the ground in frustration.

"How can he not be mortal? After all the things we did?" Harry growled. "I thought you said that once all the hocruxes were destroyed, he'd be mortal again."

"Ah yes. But you see, the problem is that he made more than seven hocruxes." Harry's jaw dropped. Dumbledore nodded solemnly. "He eventually figured out that his hocruxes were being hunted down and destroyed. So he made a dangerous decision and made a few more just in case. Voldemort is still immortal."

"B-but . . . how?" Harry closed his eyes. "Why? Why does this always happen to me!" Harry finally slumped onto the cold concrete platform. After a few problematic seconds, he looked up at Dumbledore. "What do you suppose we do?"

Dumbledore looked down at the poor boy. He had suffered so much, in so little time. "You can make a decision to die," he gestured towards the open door on the front of the Hogwarts Express, "or you can choose to go back and try to kill him once and for all."

"But how the heck am I supposed to find the other hocruxes now? We have no clues, no more manpower, no time—"

Dumbledore smiled broadly. "Oh, but we do." Harry banged his head against the ground repeatedly for a few seconds. Albus chuckled at the young man's antics. "You have a power that he knows not."

Harry looked up. He opened his mouth, took a guess, and asked weakly, "Time?"

Dumbledore smiled lit up his entire face. "Perhaps, but not precisely." Harry grumbled something incoherent, making Albus let out a hearty chuckle. "You see, you can make a wish."

Everything stopped. Harry scowled, then frowned, then gaped, then closed his mouth, then gaped once more. Finally, he decided upon an action and clenched his teeth. "What?"

Make a wish? That sounded so magical and cliché.

"Fate has given you a free wish. Well, not directly you, but rather, it is a blessing upon us from your ancestors. The Peverell family was known to be one of the most magically-enhanced families in the Wizarding World. You are a descendent of the Peverells. The Peverells were given three wishes long ago, much before the time of Merlin.

"They used two of them up. One of them being them wanting a way to cheat death. Hence, you have the Deathly Hallows. Another wish was also used, but I am not sure exactly how. But, one wish remains unused."

Harry groaned. Why did life have to be so difficult? "According to what I've comprehended, you're saying that I can wish for whatever I want and . . . poof? Just like that? It'll work."

Dumbledore nodded. "You are essentially correct, but there are rules to it."

Harry frowned. "Rules? What kind of wish is that?"

Dumbledore chuckled. "Well, rules are always necessary. Are they not?"

Harry nodded dumbly and gruffly added, "Guess so." He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked up. "What are the rules?"

"Ah. Rule number one: you must begin the wish by saying, 'I want to . . .' and finish it off with a complete thought."

Harry scoffed. "I want to kill Voldemort and eliminate him from mere existence and—"

Albus held up his hand to silence him. "Rule number two: the wish must revolve around the person making the wish. In other words, you cannot make a wish that may affect another person in any shape or form. So, you cannot formerly say you wish to destroy Voldemort. It just wouldn't work."

Harry scoffed. "Well, how about I want to become the most powerful wizard in the world?"

Albus sighed. "Rule number three: the wish is limited to less than or exactly seven words."

Harry shrieked. "What? What kind of bloody wish is that? What's the point if the wish is so short?"

Albus sighed. "Please let me finish. Rule number four: the wish must be broad, yet specific. Not too narrow and not too broad."

Harry snickered and momentarily forgot the seriousness of the situation. "So, hypothetically speaking, I can't wish to bag some witches?"

Albus frowned but allowed a small twinkle to appear in his mesmerizing blue eyes. "No, because the word 'some' can be interpreted as twenty, two, or perhaps even a hundred."

"How about I want to bag some dashing witches?"

Albus chuckled. "Well, I wouldn't exactly waste my wish there. In Fate's eyes, a pretty witch might turn out to be your worst nightmare. So, opinionated wishes are not recommended. It is suggested that you do not wish for things that are open to too much interpretation."

"Umm . . . how about I want to be stronger than Voldemort?"

Albus sighed. "That wouldn't exactly help much. You see, although you might be stronger than Voldemort, you won't be able to find the hocruxes and destroy his immortality. You would just be able to duel him. And no matter how many times you were to win a duel with Tom Riddle, he would never truly die. The problem is recurring."

Harry bit his lip. "So what do you suggest I do?"

Dumbledore smiled politely and whispered, "Time, Mr. Potter. Time." Bowing his head, he got up from the arm chair and began to weave his way back to the Hogwart's Express.

"Wait!" Harry called out. Albus turned around. The old man's smile welled with tears of mirth. He gestured for Harry to continue. "How do I make the wish?"

Albus sniffed. "If I were you, I would go to the Heart of Hogwarts. That's where most of the magic within Hogwarts lies." Harry frowned but nodded eventually. "And please Harry . . . can you forgive an old man for his poor manipulations?" He wiped away another tear.

Surprised, Harry shook his head. Sure Albus Dumbledore had been a major pain in the arse, but he was always there for Harry. He was a silent guardian. And Harry was thankful for that. Without him, Harry would have gone astray a long while ago. Despite his mistakes, Dumbles was a good man.

"Of course sir. It was for the Greater Good." He grinned and went over to embrace his mentor in a grandfatherly hug. "I learned to live and forget." He smiled back at his mentor and saluted him, stepping back a few paces. And with that, Harry's eyes rolled up. The young man fell backwards with an audible thud and passed out.

Albus Dumbledore smiled. "I wish that I had learned to do that too, at your age. Good luck."

OoOoO

Harry's POV

So there I was, in some sort of limbo. And there he was, Albus Dumbledore, being a creepy barmy old man as usual, even in his death.

So I gave the man a hug and saluted him. It felt like the right thing to do at the time, you know what I'm getting at? And I forgave him because . . . well, he's a good man and . . . people who eat candies all day and never catch diabetes are wicked cool. I just hope the barmy old man could have perhaps taught me how to make my eyes twinkle like his. It's pretty awesome how he used to do that. Anyways . . . where was I? Oh yeah. . . .

And then I passed out and woke up in the Forbidden Forest with all these Death Eaters staring at me. It was bloody scary, actually. Luckily, I had my nappy on.

Just kidding! I don't wear nappies anymore.

OoOoO

Voldemort struggled to ease the pain in his forehead. He involuntarily rubbed his scaly skin in circles, soothing out the tension that had built up in the last twenty-two seconds. "Is the boy dead?"

Nobody dared approach the boy. What if he was alive? Voldemort snarled. "You are all scrotty cowards!" The Death Eaters flinched as a group. "You there." He pointed to Narcissa Malfoy. "Check up on the boy. Now!"

Narcissa shivered and quietly made her way towards the boy's slumped body. She slowly bent down and checked for a pulse. She gasped. She quickly jumped back and cried out. Everyone's attention turned to her as she uttered, "He's alive!"

"Freakin' bitch!" Harry hissed to himself. Excuse the poor lad's language. He was in quite dilemma, was he not?

There was immediate pandemonium. Harry opened his eyes to see what was going on. He saw the Dark Lord snarl and raise his wand. Relying on pure instincts, Harry jumped up and ran for it. He sprinted towards the castle and a trail of curses followed him. Thinking quickly, he grabbed the invisibility cloak stuffed in his pocket and wrapped it around himself. This way, nobody would notice him leave the forest or enter Hogwarts.

"Get him!" Lord Voldemort, the Muggle-hating hypocrite, cried out loud.

Harry looked over his shoulder and saw Voldemort himself charging after him, gliding through the air at an incredible speed. He would catch up eventually. So Harry did the only thing imaginable. He pulled out a few of the handy pranking gadgets—like the Peruvian Darkness powder, some extendable ears, and a few Hey-Look-It's-A-Distraction's, courtesy of Fred and George—and threw them in Voldemort's general direction.

And it worked!

Voldemort let out an inhumane screech and fell backwards. This bought the escapee some time. Time. Oh, what a wonderful thing Time is.

Harry began to wheeze as he reached the castle front doors. He barged right in, ignoring the screams of terror that followed, and began running up the complicated moving staircase.

The poor lad struggled as he climbed the stairs at a steady pace. Unfortunately, it was times like these that made students wish Hogwarts had a magical lift. Only Merlin knows how the young man managed his way up. Well, anyway: back to the fun part.

Harry Potter quickly shoved the invisibility cloak into his pocket and stopped in front of the blank wall. This was it: the Room of Requirement.

At once, the young man began to pace back and forth. He ignored the growling stomach, the contracting chest, the sounds of destruction. He paced back and forth.

I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts. I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts. I need to see the Heart of Hogwarts.

Harry looked back up and smiled. A gargantuan, elaborate gold-engraved door appeared. He grasped the emerald-studded door handle, and pulled it open, and gaped.

It was empty. It was an empty classroom with a lot of Rune engravings here and there. The room buzzed with magic. But that doesn't make sense, right?

Harry heard rumbling. The castle began to shake violently. Harry rushed into the room and closed it shut behind him. Hogwarts was under attack. Voldemort was probably breaching the wards at this very moment. Harry took a deep breath and began to chant his wish.

"I want to go back in time. I want to go back in time. I want to go back in time." Nothing happened. There was a prolonged silence.

After nothing happened for a few minutes, the boy began to genuinely panic. The castle began to rock back and forth with each consecutive second. Absolutely nothing happened! What if the wish had been a bogus? What if that dream with Dumbledore had all been an illusion and a setup?

The boy was about to break down on the cold stone floor crying, thinking, I'm done for. But hey, magic has its ways of doing stuff.

There was silence—then, some more dramatic silence—and finally a boom! Or rather, a loud bang! Or maybe, a stunning whoosh! Eh, don't mind the narrator. Writers aren't meant to enact sound effects.

And then, the boy passed out. A divinely white force embraced the boy into a hug. The boy disappeared, forever. The world that he had left behind began to ripple and tear itself apart. Goodbye, year nineteen ninety seven. Hel-lo, Marauder Era!