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Summary: After making a wish on his 18th birthday, Harry wakes up in Hogwarts far different from his own. It seemed like his wish was answered with an opportunity to go to his final year with his dead parents and other Marauders but what felt like a dream at first ended up with more disappointment. After being forgotten for umpteenth time Harry decided that the travel in time was just one more joke of his bad karma. He was even stuck with a truth enthusiastic Gryffindor boy he'd never even heard about before as his only companion on lonely nights but it seemed like the boy didn't want Harry's friendship; he knew Harry had secrets and he wanted the whole world to know about them. HP/OMC, Time Travel, Marauders, Slash

Ignores the epilogue but otherwise all the books matter in this story.

Pairing: Harry/Original Male Character

Warnings: description of depression, death and self-harm. Some mild swear words too.

A/N: Hello and welcome to my Harry Potter time travel fic that is full of clichés and plot holes! It's been years since I read Harry Potter books or watched the movies and I haven't kept up with Pottermore nor new Fantastic Beasts series. I'm actually one of those who prefers just the books and original movies, not any additional stories that Rowling came up afterwards. She can do whatever with her world but I prefer to keep Potter's world just as I remember it from my childhood. So, in other words, I lag some detailed information and such since it's been so long since I had any contact with the books. I just happened to find some old fics I used to love and read them again, then remembered that I started my own fic back in 2014, read the first chapters I wrote back then and decided I wanted more. So the idea is old but the writing's brand new since I rewrote everything.

Chapter 1

Three sizes too large t-shirt glued itself against Harry's back with sweat. It dripped down his skin and sent shivers up his spine despite the roasting heat. It was July and one of the hottest summers Harry could remember. With a sigh he pushed up his glasses and lifted his wand to do one more spell. He tried to ignore the shake as he soundlessly levitated the last stone to its place.

Harry stepped back wiping the sweat from his forehead. His eyes lingered on the great wall of Hogwarts that now looked like it had before the war had went down. The broken stones had been replaced with new, perfect ones and the red stains that had covered some parts of the remaining wall were gone. It was like the war of Hogwarts had never happened. Like the memories that kept repeating themselves inside Harry's mind were just a lie or a bad dream. Harry had to avert his eyes from the wall of the castle he'd worked hours to fix. He knew that the world had to move on and that was exactly what headmaster McGonagall had wanted when she'd called couple of trustworthy witches and wizards to rebuild the school the war had completely destroyed. He knew that was the right thing to do.

But it didn't mean that it wasn't any less painful to watch the evidence of that horrid night to just disappear like everyone were supposed to simply forget.

Before he could cast a bombing spell on the wall he'd just spent hours to build again, Harry turned around to head out of the Sun. His head was starting to feel weird and his mood dangerously becoming even more sullen. If he stayed out any longer he'd probably do something he'd regret later.

He hated to admit it that more than that he was afraid of having to apologize to the disappointed faces around him for something he felt was a right thing to do. He was selfish. Was now and had been back then. He hadn't exactly tried hard enough to not see his comrades fall down, their faces concerted into a shocked and fearful expressions forever as the green light hit them.

What had he exactly done to avoid such situation? Nothing. He'd hidden and let others get tangled up to the mess that was Voldemort's and his only. There had been no need for Fred to stop smiling, no need for Remus and Tonks to never return to their just-born son. There had been no reason for so many tear streaked faces looking down to their family members who would never get up again to see this better future where the society was trying to pick itself up. There had been absolutely no reason for Harry to try to hide the evidence of the massacre he'd been a part of like he was some pathetic coward trying to pretend he was just an innocent bystander.

They'd all believed in him.

Sending the last glance towards the wall behind him he finally moved away, trying to push away the pressure in his chest. Some rational part in his head was telling him to shut up – that it wasn't his fault but Voldemort's. Harry knew that. He knew.

It was a different thing if his heart wanted to believe it.

He felt a sting in the corner of his eyes but nothing came out. The heat was making him lose his composure and will to try to put on a smile if he met anyone on his way towards Hagrid's hut. Wind blew a breath of scalding air onto his face and Harry wasn't sure if he was glad about it or not. Somehow it felt like the wind was trying to make him sweat even more as he made his way through shadowless property of Hogwarts, long hay dancing around his legs. Even the construction magic had been oddly draining that day, like the spells and the weather had joined their forces to make Harry's miserable thoughts push to the front. Once again Harry bit down the urge to do something not proper for a war hero and instead concentrated on the thought of finding something freezing to drink at the hut.

Despite spending a month at the school after the war it was still weird to walk around without hearing screams from the forest, without seeing panicked faces flash past him as people tried to run for their lives, without seeing bodies scattered around his feet and doing his best to not stumble on them. It was quiet and peaceful. There was no soul around. Harry was appointed to work on that particular wall by himself since it hadn't been damaged too badly while his friends were scattered all around the property doing whatever they were asked to do. The silence was almost eerie especially when the school had never been so empty even before the war when the students and teachers had occupied every nook and corner of their beloved school. When Harry was sure he'd seen a flash of dark robes from the corner of his eyes, he knew he had to get out of the Sun.

While running down the hill Harry couldn't help but wonder if the school would be just like always this fall. The thought made him uneasy for some reason, especially the thought that he wouldn't be there to see it. He hadn't finished his final year but he'd been given a chance from Kingsley to get the necessary education to become an Auror. Harry knew it was mostly because he was Harry Potter, the boy-who-killed-the-dark-lord, and despite that advantage he was thankful but…

He didn't even want to think how much the empty feeling would spread once the fall came back and he wasn't with other students on the train, eager to go back home.

He wasn't eager for the summer to end despite all the horrid images he got stuck to his brain daily because he didn't want to leave Hogwarts for good.

He didn't have a home, he didn't have family… not even a girlfriend especially since he and Ginny had broken it off shortly after the war. Where would he go?

Harry hissed as his palm stung. His nails had dug open a blister on his palm and blood was now flowing down his wrist. With a curse Harry sped up to get finally to his destination and bandage himself up. He quickly hoped that Hermione wouldn't be there with her sharp eyes, taking in the state of Harry's palm, but instantly felt a bang of guilt.

He made a decision to pick himself up while he opened the door but then got stunned to his tracks when a roar of voices greeted him.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY!"

Harry whipped out his wand and for a while simply stood there, staring at the smiling faces all around the room. After two seconds he realized he had his mouth hanging open and his wand still out but this only seemed to amuse everyone in the hut. Harry's eyes started to take it all in.

The hut was clearly spread out with magic since there was no way all the Weasleys, gigantic Hagrid, half of the students his age and the whole bunch of Hogwarts professors would have fitted in there. Especially when Harry's eyes landed on a huge three-store cake that had charmed Quidditch players flying around it and a large number 18 written on it with something that glittered both red and gold. Harry blinked, hiding his wand while his other had sprung up to mess the back of his hair.

"W-What is all this?" he asked, not sure if he was more relieved or shocked of what was going on. Ron emerged somewhere from the crowd, slapping his shoulder with a wide grin.

"It's your birthday party, mate!" Ron said. "You thought we wouldn't throw a party for you?"

Harry was still stunned but managed a small smile. "No," he said slowly, waving slightly at approaching Hermione. "I'd just forgotten it was my birthday." Harry had no idea when the days had gone by so fast it was already that time of the year.

"Harry! Congratulations!" Hermione pulled him into a hug and Harry awkwardly rounded his arms around her. Ron looked more amused than anything. "So how does it feel to be finally eighteen?"

Harry hated himself for turning her words into something like, "How does it feel to be alive on your eighteenth birthday?" He knew she didn't mean that. Instead of spurting out whatever he shrugged.

"Good, I guess." Hermione's brows were starting to draw together. "I mean, I haven't really had time to think about this but this looks great, guys," he continued hurriedly.

"Of course it does!" Harry's stomach made a flip as a red headed girl whose face he knew better than anyone's stood in front of him. "We spent ages on baking that cake." Ginny's smile wasn't as wide as his two best friends', even Ron's smile was starting to falter now that the tension fell between the four of them. Harry was painfully aware of the rest of the eyes on them and quickly tried to hide his embarrassment.

"I… I believe that," Harry nodded. "It's amazing." Silence started to fall between them.

Thankfully the Weasley mother came rushing towards him to smother him with kisses and hugs and the rest of the room started to breathe. Despite being in a tight spot even Harry could inhale more easily. He watched sadly as the girl he'd once liked so much now left to stand next to Dean Thomas and slipped her hand into his. Harry's eyes lingered on their hands a little longer than was normal but no one seemed to notice. Ginny looked happy. Happier than she'd been with Harry. There was a glow in her eyes that Harry hadn't seen since his sixth year and a relaxed smile was back instead of the tight one she seemed to have stuck to after the war.

Harry was glad she was happy. He was happy that it was also Dean. He was good for her. Dean was positive, always noticed when Ginny needed attention and was always there when Harry failed to be. After the war Ginny had had hard time with the loss of Fred but Harry had been a git and let himself dwell on his own problems for so long that Ginny'd become fed up with trying to understand.

When he'd told her he wanted to break up she hadn't even cried. She'd just smiled sadly and agreed.

Then it was over.

Harry still cared about Ginny but he didn't feel the urge to push Dean away when he kissed her tenderly. On contrary his mind saw green for other reasons; Harry had no one to return to because the one he used to have was now expecting Dean instead of Harry.

There were so many things in Harry's mind he never wanted anyone to know. He didn't want to lose his only friends too.

"Harry, what is that?" Hermione's grave voice pushed him out of his voice. He quickly smoothed his wrinkly forehead and furrowed brows as he glanced where the girl was pointing to. Harry tentatively raised his hand, only now remembering the palm that wasn't bleeding any longer.

"Oh, this?" He waved his hand like it was nothing. "Just accidentally opened a blister."

Ron glanced discreetly at them while pretending to eat muffins and not listening on their conversation. Harry rolled his eyes and cast a quick healing spell on the wound. He went to clean the blood off at the sink.

Hermione's sigh didn't make him look at her but when she started to talk he turned his annoyed eyes at her.

"Wasn't that blister from that other time you happened to accidentally scratch your palm when we were sitting at the dinner table a week ago?" He frowned at her pursed lips.

"Yeah, well, my palm just started to itch and who doesn't scratch their itch away," Harry stated matter of factly and turned to Ron. "Right, Ron?"

The red head looked lost for a while, glancing from his girlfriend to his best friend and finally shrugged, muttering something incoherent with his mouth full of cookies. His face reddened and he quickly scurried away with some excuse. Hermione didn't look pleased but let it be.

"I'm serious, Harry." Her voice was steady but Harry could see she wanted to force her opinions down his throat. He went to get a cookie for himself too, trying to keep his temper down.

"Look, Hermione," he started, not meeting her eyes anymore. "I'm fine. I don't even know what you're trying to imply."

"I think you do-"

"No, I don't." He had to take a deep breath before continuing, "Today I just accidentally opened an old would. Nothing more, nothing less."

"Harry…"

"I don't know why you're making such a big deal out of this." Harry raised his hand to her, having a sick feeling of victory when she reeled back looking embarrassed. "It's just a wound. I've endured much worse." Like dying once. Or every time Voldemort was connected to his scar.

"I know that but this is different. You haven't been yourself lately…"

"None of us has been."

"I know that." It seemed like it was getting harder even for her to keep her voice calm. "But saw your face when…" She took a deep breath. "When you opened that last wound."

Harry had no idea what she was talking about.

"And that one wound on your arm before that."

"What wound…" Harry tried to remember what she meant. "You mean the one I got when I picked up that stone with bare hands? I didn't even do that myself!"

"I know that, Harry! But the way you looked so calm after it." She chocked to her words, looking down. Her voice wavered like she was afraid to admit what she thought, "You looked at your… blood like it was helping you breath more easily."

Harry's heart beat through his chest as he tried to avoid the teary brown eyes. He opened his mouth to say something only to end up closing it when he had nothing to say. Hermione wasn't finished and even Ron was coming back to them after seeing the conversation wasn't going that well without him but right when they both opened their mouths talk a happy voice yelled,

"Harry, my boy! It's time to blow the candles!"

Harry let out a shaky breath and turned to Mr. Weasley. He was smiling widely but a twist on his lips and dark circles under his eyes told another story. Harry smiled in spite of this, happy for distraction.

His eyes followed keenly every movement of McGonagall's wand as she lit up the candles and made the little Quidditch players fly around in panic. That was so he didn't have to face Hermione and what kind of face she was making after their talk. What he could tell from Ron's expression, though, was that Harry would probably hate himself for it.

"Now remember to wish, Harry," Mr. Weasley said and actually looked excited. Harry smiled at him kindly and was about to blow the candles when Ron asked,

"What do you mean wish?"

Mr. Weasley looked at his son in confusion and Hermione came to his rescue. Her voice was raspy which made Harry look down at the huge cake his friends had made for him. He bit his lip but didn't say anything.

"It's a muggle tradition." She cleared her throat. "When someone has a birthday and they blow the candles, they can wish for anything."

"Why?"

"Well, then the wish will come true."

"Do you mean there's some kind of magic to it?" Seamus asked.

This time it was Dean who looked at his friend like he was an idiot. "No, it doesn't actually work. It's just a muggle superstition."

"What's a superstition?" Neville frowned.

"Who cares, just do it already, Harry, so we can eat," Seamus ushered.

Harry snickered with others, shaking his head but in the end did what he was asked to. He stared at the dancing little flames for a while thinking about the wish. There was no harm to it so why not make everyone happy for once and wish for something. God, was there so much he wished for. So much he wanted for his living friends, for his late beloved ones, for himself…

He let his gaze meet everyone in the room and everyone looked at him eagerly back. No one looked at him the way they were supposed to, they just looked at him gently – sadly even. Some were smiling and some encouraging him to do it. But Harry could see the faces in the crowd that were missing. That were supposed to be there. He almost expected to see Colin's camera flash the moment he finally bent down and blew the candles.

The flames flickered and finally the only ray of light was the sun pouring in from a small window. Everyone started to clap, some even cheered but Harry couldn't muster much of a smile at them. He simply stared at the smoking candles and closed his eyes, repeating the wish one more time like a mantra, hoping that there actually was some kind of magic in a muggle tradition.

Just give me a good reason to wake up tomorrow. Give me a reason to wake up tomorrow. Give me a reason to want to wake up tomorrow.

When he opened his eyes he was smiling once again and decided to forget his wish. He'd deal with the head ache tomorrow.

A/N: Leave a comment if you like! It'd be nice to hear your thoughts :)

Written on 22nd of December, 2017