Set immediately after "Goblet of Fire". After the dreadful fourth year, Harry looks for a way to turn back time and change the events with in mind to stop Voldemort's return. He finds a spell that allows him to relive his fourth year and have the life he always dreamed of. Now he's back at the Quidditch World Cup, his parents are alive, and the lightning scar is gone! Someone else now is called 'the Boy Who Lived'. Will Harry's name come out of the Goblet of Fire this year?

Note: This fan fiction was written to follow the plot line of Goblet of Fire scene by scene, more or less.

Enjoy.

PART ONE

CHAPTER ONE: THE QUIDDITCH WORLD CUP TAKE TWO

He didn't think his stomach could take it anymore. His eyes were closed tightly and the swirling lights and stormy winds around him made him dizzy. It felt like falling into an abyss, or being pulled into it by an invisible thread. "What have I done?" he thought bitterly, remembering the spell he had just pronounced. "I should have listened to Hermione. Terrible things happen to wizards who meddle with time. What have I done?"

Suddenly, he heard a voice. It was not a dream. It was close, so close.

"Sweetheart, you're ready. Let go. Let go!"

He hit the ground flat on his back and opened his eyes. There she was, his mother, as real and alive as could possibly be. She was leaning over him with a smile on her face. The morning daylight was shinning on her hair. She was not a ghost. Then someone offered him a hand, a strong hand. It was his father. Harry took his father's hand. His father pulled him up from the ground and onto his feet. He couldn't move. He could hardly stand up straight. He couldn't breathe. He had forgotten how to breathe. Breathing was not important. He was standing in front of his parents, and they were smiling at him. They were alive.

"Harry, sweetheart, you look positively shaken. Are you alright, honey?" said the soft, motherly voice of Lily Potter. "Take a deep breath. It's over now."

He said nothing. His mother came closer to brush dirt off his shoulder. He could do nothing but stare at her. Her eyes, his eyes, they were the same.

"Look at you, Harry. You look petrified. I never thought… It's just a Portkey. It's quite harmless." His father let out a small laugh and carelessly dropped the Portkey, an old watch, onto the grass.

"He's never used a Portkey before, James" said Lily Potter. Then she turned her attention back to Harry, touching his cheek with her gentle hand. "When we get to the tent, you can lie down, sweetheart. You look pale. There's a little time before the match."

Then they started to walk together, all three of them. Voices could be heard ahead of them. Harry instantly realised where they were going: the Quidditch World Cup. He was back in time exactly one year ago. "It worked. I can't believe it worked", he kept saying over and over in his head. "It was just a stupid book and a stupid incantation, but it worked. I came back in time, exactly one year back. I've brought back my parents." Dumbledore had been wrong. There was a spell that could bring back the dead.

His father placed an arm over his shoulder. His mother laid a hand on his head, placing a strand of loose hair behind his ear. The thought hit him like a wave of happiness such as he had never felt before. "This is my happiest memory now." At that precise moment, he couldn't imagine how changing a few events in time could be such an awful thing.

Harry Potter was entirely indifferent to the extraordinary setting of the Quidditch World Cup. He had seen it before. The thousands of tents, the families of wizards, the familiar faces of Hogwarts students, the euphoria of the upcoming match Ireland versus Bulgaria, none of that impressed him much. He finally felt that things were exactly as they ought to be. But then, that had been exactly the point of the spell he had used.

The book had said on the cover: "Turn back time. Live one year exactly as you wish it." He had wished to stop Voldemort's return, but then he had found that the book allowed to change some aspects of one's life at will. And so he had wished for everything he had ever wanted: his parents, a normal life, the chance to undo the outcome of what happened in the cemetery. Thus, so far, everything was exactly as it should be, and he was glad with the result.

They reached his parent's tent after a long and enjoyable walk across the campsite. The tent was of a golden color and had a brick red chimney on the side. It looked like the best tent around, spotless and shinning. The inside reminded him of the Gryffindor Common Room. It was warm and cozy with a huge fireplace and chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. His bedroom, separated from the rest of the tent by a thick red velvet curtain, was bigger than any bedroom he had ever seen, least of all being allowed to sleep in. Everything was gold and red, from the carpet to the comforter on his bed which had a golden phoenix on it. There was a huge painting of a sleeping lion on the right side of the bed. The lion was snoring. There was a poster of the Weird Sisters besides it. Bits of parchment lay here and there on the dresser and bedside table on the left; the tightly scribbled letters looked like his handwriting. He could hear his parents talking happily about the match. Like everyone else, they seemed to support Ireland, but his father clearly thought that the seeker Viktor Krum from Bulgaria was worth a few praises.

His mind racing with the idea of where he was and who he was with, Harry lurched himself on the bed and laid his head on the pillow, staring at the ceiling, listening to the voices of his parents and appreciating every word spoken. He thought that if he didn't stop shaking anytime soon, he was sure to start crying. Rapidly, he was on his feet again, looking around at his new life, thinking that he ought to get accustomed to his new surroundings. He started to rummage through his personal things, but soon he realised that he felt no real connection to anything in the room except the Gryffindor colors.

In the first drawer of his dresser, he found what he was looking for: a mirror. Slowly, he lifted his fringe and moved the mirror closer to his face. "It's gone", he thought. The knot in his stomach seemed to tighten. "I don't have a scar anymore."

"I'm sure everything is exactly as it should be, Harry."

Startled, Harry wheeled around, putting the mirror back in the drawer as fast as he could. Another familiar face was grinning at him.

"Sirius!"

This was really a different Sirius than the one he had seen in the fire crate of the Gryffindor Common Room. He was well dressed and looked full of life. His face was slightly tanned, his hair black as ever but clean. His eyes were not sunken or dark, but energetic and sparkling.

"Well don't just stand there! Will you give your godfather a hug?"

Sirius didn't really hug him. He ruffled Harry's hair. He measured to see how much Harry had grown since the last time they had seen each other. Harry could remember when and where their last encounter had been, but he was sure that Sirius' memories of that moment were different. All Harry could do presently was nod and smile.

"You look okay now" said Sirius when he had made sure that Harry's hair was everywhere else but tucked behind his ears. "Come on, I'll introduce you."

They walked into the dining room area where his parents were sitting comfortably at a wooden table, drinking what looked like Butterbeer. There was someone else sitting with them. The young woman looked like she could be Fleur Delacour's older sister. Harry felt himself blush slightly.

"You must be 'Arry", she said with an unmistakable French accent.

Sirius went behind her and placed his hands on her shoulders.

"Harry, this is Audrey Larochelle. We met in France. Audrey and I decided to spend the remaining of the summer with you and your parents."

"Nice to meet you", said Harry, shaking her hand. Sirius was beaming at him, but it seemed to Harry that he saw his father snort slightly.

"I 'ave 'eard good comments about 'Ogwarts. Do you like your school?"

"Yeah, it's great", said Harry vaguely.

He could see that Sirius could not take his eyes off her. She was really beautiful. Her hair was blond with curls down to her back. She had blue eyes and her cheeks were slightly pink. She wore fashionably thorn jeans, a fluffy white woollen sweater and pink nail polish. Harry thought that she looked more Muggle than witch. And she obviously was a fair few years younger than Sirius.

"Did you go to Beaubatons?" he asked innocently. "I hear it's really amazing", he added, remembering a few of Fleur's comments about the Hogwarts Great Hall being nothing compared to the Beaubatons Great Hall.

"Yes!" she answered, almost jumping at the edge of her seat. "Yes! We 'ad beautiful uniforms. 'Ogwarts uniforms are too black. Sometimes I wish I could go back to school just to wear zat uniform again."

There was an awkward silence. Harry saw his parents exchange a quick glance.

"Well, shall we continue this conversation on our way to the match?" James offered, rising to his feet.

All five of them set out for the stadium among the effervescent crowd and with no other care in the world than supporting the Irish Quidditch team.

Harry's father bought omniculars for everyone. They had very good seats. But since he knew how the match was going to end, Harry used the omniculars to try and find sign of Ron or Hermione among the top boxes. He clearly saw the Minister of Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and also the head of the Department of Magical Cooperation, Bartemius Crouch, but after a few minutes of search there was still no sign of Ron or Hermione. From what he remembered, Ron and his family were too far from where he stood now. It was highly unlikely that he would be able to spot them even with the omniculars.

"Come on, Harry!" said his father, speaking loudly through the cheering crowd. "I know that you're not very found of Quidditch, but you have to admit this is exiting."

Harry was momentarily set back. "Not very found of Quidditch?" he thought. "How can I not be very found of Quidditch?"

He felt someone lean closer to his ear. It was Sirius.

"I understand how you feel, Harry" he said so that only Harry could hear. "Have you found her yet?"

"Who?"

But then Krum spotted the snitch and the crowd went wild, and Sirius did not answer the question.

The cheers, the noise and the carelessness continued well into the evening after the match. Every person of importance at the World Cup, it seemed to Harry, came by the Potter's tent just to say hello to James and Lily or to Sirius. Harry was particularly glad when he saw Arthur Weasley walk in, but Ron's dad took no special notice of Harry and he was soon on his way. Immediately after Mr Weasley had left, someone else walked in who Harry had not expected.

"Harry!" said the cheerful voice of Neville Longbottom. "You should have told me you decided to come to the match after all, mate. We could have watched it together. Well, never mind now. You have to admit it was awesome. I mean, even for you. Didn't I tell you so?"

Neville kept poking him on the shoulder with his fist. He had a large grin on his face. He looked absolutely thrilled that Harry was there, but Harry was not sure why. He couldn't remember ever seeing Neville so enthusiastic about anything, least of all Quidditch.

"I guess you were right, Neville", he said, fighting back another of Neville's friendly punches.

"Neville? Harry, my mom calls me Neville."

At that moment, Neville's parents walked in and Harry's stomach tightened again.

They looked like the most loving, lively people Harry had never seen. They shook hands with Harry's parents, made a comment about something, and then there was laughter all around the tent. Neville's mom even made a comment in French at which Audrey Larochelle giggled happily, then wheeled around, threw her arms around Sirius' neck and kissed him passionately. Harry immediately realised that Neville, the new Neville that now stood in front of him, was a direct result of being brought up by these people. He was not the shy, unimposing, withdrawn boy anymore.

Then the sight of someone else caught Harry's eyes. It was a young girl, probably of Ginny's age or younger. She had dark brown wavy hair, the same color as Neville, falling over her eyes and just below the shoulders. She was wearing a green Ireland scarf. She came over to where Harry and Neville stood.

"Hi, Harry. Don't let Neville brainwash you. Quidditch is just a stupid sport. It doesn't involve any real knowledge of proper magic. If you ask me, duelling is much more interesting as a sport. It's a lot more challenging, don't you agree?"

"Err," said Harry. He was unwilling to argue with the girl.

"No wonder you ended up in Ravenclaw, El" Neville said. He sounded very annoyed by her.

"Eleanor, dear, come over here. Audrey wants to take a better look at you," called Mrs Longbottom.

Harry glanced at the young girl and then back at Neville. The resemblance was unmistakable. "Eleanor", thought Harry. "Neville has a sister named Eleanor and she is in Ravenclaw. I have to remember that." He also thought about Neville's parents, about how they had been tortured to insanity by Death Eaters. They're life had changed somehow. They were happy now. They had had another child after Neville. Harry had a family now, and so did Neville. He was more and more convinced that the spell had worked wonderfully. It was not a bad thing at all to wish for a perfect life.

Lily Potter pulled out some sandwiches and everyone tucked in at the wooden table for an evening snack. What followed was a long hour of laughter and Butterbeer. Harry quickly learned that Neville was mostly called Nev, and that he and his sister were disagreeing on everything, which caused a lot of bickering at the table. Harry thought it was rather enjoyable to see Neville win at almost every argument. But most of all, he was glad that his spell had worked for Neville as well. He seemed so relaxed and happy.

They were well into their second helping of dessert when the beginning of the disturbance was heard. Everyone in the tent stopped talking at once to listen to what the new sounds were about. The noises rapidly turned into screams and the smell of smoke. James, Sirius and Frank Longbottom stood up, wands at the ready.

"Lily", James called out, "get the children to the Portkey. Hurry!"

Harry's mind was racing with the memories of the Death Eaters at the World Cup and the Dark Mark rising in the night sky. Barty Crouch Junior had conjured it. It was happening again.

He had no time to think more about it. His mother had ceased his arm tightly; she was not going to let him out of her sight. Neville's mother was also grasping at Neville and Eleanor with both hands. Audrey looked very scared. She was holding her wand up in front of her, but it was shaking so much that Harry thought no spell would come out of it if it properly.

They ran among the panic-stricken crowd. All the while, Harry kept his eyes on the sky, wondering when it would appear, the Dark Mark.

They made it into the woods, all six of them, with Audrey trailing behind as her shoes were not made for running. The screaming was more scattered now as people were hiding from the roaring Death Eaters. The voices soon died out and all became quiet. Harry thought he saw a glimpse of red hair. Was it Ron and Ginny and the twins?

"You know what they want, don't you?" said Neville's mother to Lily, keeping her voice down. She looked pale and trembling.

Lily let go of Harry's forearm and placed a comforting hand on the other woman's shoulder.

"They will not touch him. I will not allow it. Neville is safe with us", she said reassuringly.

Harry looked over at Neville who was bent down, panting slightly from the running. It didn't seem a surprise to anyone that his mother thought that the Death Eaters were after Neville. But of all the people, Harry couldn't grasp why. Then he saw it. Just like it had been on his forehead, covered by his fringe, there was the lightning scar, a dark shade of pink, on Neville Longbottom's forehead, hidden under the thick brown curls. "This means that Voldemort tried to kill Neville instead of me," thought Harry. He could remember Hagrid's words spoken on his first year at Hogwarts: "A mark like that can only come from a curse, a terrible curse."

Someone shrieked. All of them looked up. The sky was illuminated in green. The Dark Mark had been cast. Harry stared at Neville, wondering what his school friend was feeling at the moment. Was the scar burning? Yet Neville's face did not twist in pain, and his hand did not reach to his forehead in reaction to a burning sensation. Neville had the scar, but it wasn't him who felt the sudden throbbing on his forehead.

Harry was caught unawares by the pain that hit him and slightly lost his balance. Alarmed by the renewed screaming and the Dark Mark, his mother grabbed his arm and they started to move deeper into the woods. Lily Potter did not notice that her son was clutching his head with his free hand. The two older women were both looking out for Neville.

"This isn't real", thought Harry bitterly, trying to convince himself. "This isn't happening again."

Yet another voice in his head was saying: "This is what you asked for. It needs to happen again if you want to change what happens afterwards."

Moments later, James and Frank Longbottom appeared carrying an old boot. It was a Portkey. Sirius came running behind them. When Audrey saw him, she began to sob uncontrollably. Harry glanced at the Dark Mark once again before touching the Portkey. The truth was beginning to sink in: he was going to live through the foreboding events leading to Voldemort's return all over again, and the Dark Mark was just the beginning. And the worst part of it was that he had wished for it.