depression and time travel
Harry was depressed.
Yes, his side had won the Battle of Hogwarts. Yes, he was labeled a hero. Yes, his nickname had changed from 'The Boy Who Lived' to 'The Boy Who Lived Twice.' But none of that could heal the aching pain deep in his chest.
It was agony.
Harry’s parents, James and Lily, were killed protecting him when he was around a year old. He was sent to live with his relatives from hell, the Dursleys. However, in Harry’s third year of school, he met his Godfather, Sirius Black. Sirius died two years later protecting him, just like Harry’s parents had. Harry became close with his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, while hunting for horcruxes. Albus died before the hunt could finish. He died in front of Harry. Harry developed a closer paternal-like relationship with one of his father’s friends, who used to be a professor at Hogwarts, Remus Lupin. Lupin died fighting in a war that Harry had caused.
A lot of people died in that war. Fred Weasley, Colin Creevey, Nymphadora Tonks, Lavender Brown, and Severus Snape. The worst part is that that's only a fraction of the people who lost their lives in that war. A war that Harry had caused.
And just maybe Harry didn't truly cause the war. But, he still trained a lot of people fighting in it. Harry willingly congregated an army to fight for Dumbledore, which is the only reason so many of his classmates were involved.
The unbearable thought of one day being older than some of his friends was eating him alive.
Even though the war was months ago, Harry still had nightmares. Nightmares where he would be the one killing everyone. In those dreams he never had control over his body or his actions. Sometimes he had weapons, other times it was his wand. The worst ones were when he used his bare hands.
Every single time that reoccurring nightmare happened, he would wake up in a panic. He would run to his bathroom and scrub the nonexistent blood of his friends off of his hands. His face would be streaked with tears and snot. He would stand there at the sink for hours, until his hands were pink and raw, trying to get rid of all the blood. It never did truly fade.
He tried and tried but nothing could make him feel whole again. A part of him was buried with his parents. A different part buried with Remus. A piece for Sirius. One for Albus. There was a part of him that died every time he lost someone he knew. His soul felt like it was being utterly ripped to shreds, and each time he saw something that reminded him of the friends he lost, another piece tore.
If Harry were asked to describe his life in one word, he would choose death. Death is the only constant. Whether it's the people he loves dying or the various threats trying to kill him, death is the one thing that never changes. It's almost become a comfort. Almost.
When your life is always being upended, when a grown man has a personal vendetta against you and thinks murder is the solution, you hold on to constants. Anything to keep you grounded.
People in grief don’t always make the best decisions. They often become self-destructive, dangerous even. Harry, being one of those people, thought, ‘Fuck it.’
He was at rock bottom. Nothing could make him feel worse. Numb, cold, brittle, sad—he felt all of it. The only way left to go was up. So, why not try to fix things?
Why not travel back in time and kill Voldemort before he ever touched Harry’s parents?
Harry knew it was selfish. Harry knew that one small slip up could ruin everyone else's lives. Harry knew that it would be difficult. Harry didn’t care.
He was so deep in the endless void of grief that he reached the point of just not giving a fuck anymore.
***
Harry was in the library. He told his friends that he was ‘studying’. Ron and Hermione were so busy doing Merlin knows what was behind Ron’s curtains, that they didn’t catch the lie and he got away with it.
The library was silent and mostly empty. Harry dumped his bag on a chair at a vacant table and stepped over to the ‘T’ section.
He browsed the shelf passing over Theories of Transfiguration, The Thestral Compendium: Understanding Magical Creatures , and Toxic Fungi and Their Antidotes. His eyes landed on the specific book he was looking for. Time Travel: The Beginners Guide. He pulled it off the shelf and brought it over to his claimed chair.
Harry almost jumped when he saw Hermione sitting at the seat across from him. How did she always manage to sneak up on him?
“Hi ‘Mione,” Harry said awkwardly.
“What are you doing?” Hermione answered sweetly.
“Reading…”
“Harry, I know what you're up to.” Hermione’s smile dropped. “Don’t lie to me.”
Harry thought about it and technically, he wasn't lying. “What? I’m reading.”
“You’re researching. What could you possibly need to research time travel for? Please, enlighten me.”
Harry knew trying to lie to his best friend was futile. “Fine. I'm fixing everything. I’m going back.”
“Okay.” She shrugged her shoulders, matter-of-factly. “I’m coming with you.”
Harry was in shock. Hermione out of all people? Breaking laws just so He didn't have to feel sad anymore? The same Hermione that used to berate him for not wearing his tie tight enough? That Hermione? But when Harry thought about it, perhaps it wasn't the same Hermione.
The war had been difficult on everyone. Hermione had to obliviate her parents and basically erase her existence to them. Hermione had her own grief to deal with. Perhaps she had things she wanted to fix too. Harry had gotten so lost in thought that he forgot to think of a response, so, he settled for a confused, “What?”
Hermione slightly raised her eyebrows, challenging him. “I’m coming with you. And also, we’re bringing Ron.”
“Ron won’t want to come. ‘Mione, we have nothing to lose. He does. He has his mum, his dad, his brothers, Ginny.” Harry explained.
“It doesn't hurt to ask.”
So, that's how Harry ended up alone in his dorm with a half asleep Ron Weasley, wondering how to ask him to time travel with him. His heart was pounding in his chest and the deep, anxious, pit in his stomach was starting to get deeper.
He couldn't just go outright and say, Hey Ron! How was your day? Do you want to time travel to the seventies and redo the severely traumatic event, killing a Dark Lord, again so that this time less people die? That definitely wouldn't work.
Actually…This was his best friend after all.
“Ron?”
“What Harry? I was just about to fall asleep.” Ron groaned, exasperated.
“Do you want to come with me and Hermione and time travel to before Voldemort killed my parents so that we can kill him before he kills everyone?” Harry winced at his jumble of words and was talking at the speed of light. Whatever. He recalled his thought from earlier, the only way to go is up.
“What in the bloody fuck? Go to sleep man. Get a hobby or something. How much free time do you have to get these ideas?” Ron looked at Harry pointedly.
“Ron.”
“You and ‘Mione are going? She agreed to this?” He sent Harry a look of disbelief.
“Yeah?” Harry tried to give him a comforting smile but it didn't really work. Just came out sort of shyly.
“Then sure.” Ron shrugged and put his head back down to go to sleep.
Harry blinked, hard. “Excuse me?”
“What?”
“You’re just gonna agree to it? It took me three weeks to convince you to sneak out to Hogsmeade with me that one time.” Harry complains.
“I trust ‘Mione.” Harry would have fought him on this part but he wasn’t wrong. Hermione was smart. She made good decisions. So, by that logic, time traveling to save everyone's lives was technically a good decision.
“Okay.” Harry let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.
“But we’re bringing more people. We can’t kill Voldemort, just the three of us.” Again, Ron was right. Why make the task more difficult than it had to be?
***
It turns out, even at two in the morning, Diagon Alley was fucking sweltering.
Everyone had either apparated, or sidealonged, to Diagon Alley. ‘Everyone’ included Harry, Ron, Hermione, Malfoy, Neville, and Luna. Malfoy had only been invited after he convinced everyone to come with his ‘unbearable guilt’.
“Okay. ‘Mione, Malfoy, potions?” Harry looked at her.
Hermione and Malfoy were tasked with developing a de-aging potion that would only wear off when the antidote was drank. For their plan to work, they would have to blend in with all of the sixth years at Hogwarts. This would've been extremely hard for them considering the fact that they were all eighteen and the stress of the war had already aged them.
Malfoy pulled out six pink vials from the pocket of his robes and passed them around. Harry and the rest of the group held them up to a street lamp and investigated it.
“Just hurry up and take the bloody potion for Merlin's sake. If I wanted to kill you a lot I would've done it by now.” Malfoy sneered.
Everyone gave him semi-skeptical looks, not sure if he was serious or not, and took their potions. They all felt their faces and bodies morphing. Harry cringed at the feeling.
“You look like such a git, Potter. ” Malfoy barked.
“Why do you always say my last name like it's some sort of slur? Also, you can’t call me that anymore. It might give us away.” Harry laughed.
Luna pulled a time turner out of her pocket. No one really questioned how or why she had it. It was just the type of thing Luna would own.
The six gathered in the chain of the time turner. This one was bigger and looked more heavy duty than the one that Hermione and Harry had used in third year. While Luna was busy mumbling something about nargles to Neville, Hermione activated the necklace.
Time travel was on the list of things in the magical world that were actually a lot more uncomfortable than you would think. Harry felt like his body was being mushed and stretched like playdough, but it didn’t hurt? It was almost like being liquified in a way. Eventually, the body mushing came to an abrupt stop.
“What the fuck?” Ron said.
“Oh Merlin, I think I'm gonna throw up.” Neville croaked.
“It's okay.” Luna patted his back. “It felt like that my first time too.”
Everyone gave Luna questioning looks. Everyone except for Neville of course, who was too busy trying to hide his face that turned bright red at the contact.
Diagon Alley on August 25th, 1976 was brighter than the time they came from. It was still the early hours of the morning and pitch black outside, but the shops were painted with brighter colors and had more things in stock. After the war, a lot of shop owners had lost a lot of money and motivation to keep things vibrant and lively. Things became dull. Anywhere you looked, it was just varying shades of grey and brown.
The group made their way to the Leaky Cauldron, where they would be staying until the school year started.
Harry, Ron, Luna, Neville, and Malfoy were all sitting on benches while Hermione was trying to get them rooms. It didn’t look like it was going well so Harry decided to walk up and help.
“Sorry Miss Granger. That’s all we have.” Hermione sighed at the Man working.
“Okay then. I guess we’ll take them.” Hermione replied, disappointed.
The man handed her three keys and she started back toward the group without a word. Harry followed.
“Okay sorry everyone so there were only three rooms available. I’ll stay with Ron, Luna, you stay with Neville, and I guess that leaves Harry and Malfoy.”
“What?” Harry sputtered. “Why do I have to be the one to stay with him?”
Malfoy shot him a dirty look. “Oh I'm so sorry we have to share a room for one night.” His tone was laced with sarcasm.
“Well I don’t want to be murdered in my sleep!” Harry whined.
“Neither do I Haz, suck it up. It's one night.” Hermione sighed and passed the keys out. She and Ron left upstairs. Neville and Luna followed closely behind them.
Malfoy groaned and walked up the stairs. Harry trailed after him. Why was Malfoy the one complaining about sharing? Harry was the one who was in immediate danger.
Malfoy broke the heavy silence, “So what's going on between Granger and Weasley? Are they dating?”
“Yeah, took them long enough. They were both too stubborn and oblivious their first six years at school.” Harry let out a bit of a laugh.
Malfoy grunted in response as they approached the room. “Give me the key.”
“Why? I can unlock it.” Harry furrowed his brows.
“Give me the key, Potter .”
“You know you’re gonna have to start calling everyone by their first names. You might expose us.” Harry reminded him once again. He reluctantly handed the blonde the rusty silver key with a sigh. The door swung open with a creak.
“You’ve got to be joking.” Malfoy’s hands went to his hair. Harry swore he could see the pale skin on the boy’s face turn a tinge pink.
Harry groaned, “Are you fucking kidding me?”