Disclaimer: Right-O. J. K. Rowling made all this stuff up, so it belongs to her and her scarily brilliant mind; true, she shared the wealth so there are some other guys that have a claim on the Harry Potter franchise, but I dunno who they are. The important thing is that Harry and his world belongs to them, not me. Got it? Good.

Warning: Watch it!Horny boys going at each other like bunny-rabbits on an Amortentia overdose in later chapters! (I wonder what would that potion smell like to them? Carrots?). Much fluff and cuddly moment ahoy soon! Thick-Headedness ahead in the near future!

You have been warned; beware, of finding more than straight sex there!

Author's Notes: Well, it hasn't been that long since the last update, has it? I considered keeping this chapter hidden until the end of next week and post it then, that way I would have a little backup in case I was too busy to write and so you guys wouldn't get used to seeing so many chapters at the same time, but whatever, right? I decided to just post 'em as they come, and this here chapter came rather easily after the last one, eh? (smirk)

Anyways, I do have some fic-related issues for those nit-pickers out there (you know who you are). Simply said, I really don't have time to come up with a new language or ways to develop some original names, so I will be using existing names and such. Try to ignore that little snafu while I write this, you hear?

Now, go off and read and leave me a review, why don'cha?


It took more than a couple of absentminded swats to displace the small spider that thought to use his bangs as a promising place to start a new web. Certainly, his surroundings would not have dissuaded the tiny creature, but Harry found its choice for web-making sorely lacking. Then again, maybe it wasn't that the spider lacked judgment when it came to putting up its web, seeing that all other corners in this dusty library were already taken, but that his hair just looked that promising as a foundation for web-making; truly, he didn't know if the thought was insulting or flattering, so he just tried to shove it aside….

…Then again, maybe it was because he hadn't moved all that much in the last three or four hours? Yes, that was it; the sate of his hair had nothing to do with it, he nodded.

With a deep sigh and a held-in yawn he went back to the book he was reading, hoping that it held at least some of the answers he was looking for; already much of his plans had been confirmed, he simply needed more information before going much further, but it was a tedious task. Hermione was already listing the spells they would need to research and learn, and who they might need to consult before attempting anything else.

Still, a few wrinkles would need to be ironed out and the help of both McGonagall and Flitwick, and maybe even Remus, would be needed. That in itself had been somewhat hard to acquire, but they had already made an appointment with both professors, and just hoped that Remus would be able to attend as well.

Already, suspicions were rampant as most members of the Order became increasingly wary of their activities; the newspaper's speculation about both his mental state and health did not seem to assuage these at all, but then, with Voldemort out of the way he could see how Scrimgreour could think him a threat to his career as Minister. He was, after all, the wizarding worlds golden child once again. The Order's wariness of him had more to do with their witnessing his out of control magic first hand than anything else, and they were a firm minority who would not turn against him based on rumors and propaganda, even if dubious themselves.

Of course, the fact that they weren't telling anyone of their actions, even when confronted about them, only arose more suspicion within those that did doubt him.

However, even with Voldemort's defeat the Wizarding World remained somewhat skeptical about the permanence of this fact, seeing that he had returned once already; they still looked over their shoulders, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop. While celebrations raged all around, they had been told that it was nothing compared to Voldemort's first downfall. In short, wizards had gained some measure of cynicism, even as late as it was in developing.

True, the fact that the Death Eaters weren't ceasing their activities was probably part of the problem, though those who were well informed could tell that the only ones causing trouble were the Azkaban escapees; like the Lestrange's and the Carrow's. It was only a matter of time before everyone realized that these few wizards were nothing without their Master's backup and finally put the whole war behind them, and these few fugitives back in prison.

What he dreaded, however, was being caught up in the whole mess before it was resolved; what with loose Death Eaters, inner Ministry corruption, and Hogwarts barely opening its doors this next term.

Already he had played the role of scapegoat, and he was not looking forward to do so again. His public image was too fickle and he knew that if Scrimgreour kept pushing those articles in the Prophet it would only take time before the tide of public opinion turned against him once more. Obviously, the man didn't know that he cared little for the public and was not going to go against the Minister unless the man made himself his enemy.

Funny how he was trying to do just that, huh?

Still, he never considered the fact that the public wouldn't turn on him or his word as quickly as he thought they would, seeing that in their eyes he had more than proved himself by finally defeating the Dark Lord. At the moment and to the rest of the wizarding world, his voice was weaved of gold, his piss infused with the Elixir of Life, and his shit was treated as if the most fragrant of odors known to the universe wafted from it.

For now and quite some time to come, his image was unshakable, his character unquestionable. If he asked them to jump, the wizards of the world would ask how high…and could they enchant, spell or use any manner of strange doohickeys to fulfill his wish?

But then, the only people he had to measure the public's reaction to was those from the Order of the Phoenix, which even now was slowly disbanding, and none of them could quite get over the way his magic had gotten out of control to show the devotion and esteem that the rest of the world held him in.

And since he didn't know the possibilities, it didn't even register while he was making his plans.

His thoughts were interrupted, though, by a heavy thump on the floor beside him; where he was leaning against one of the bookshelves, reading. "Have you found anything useful in that book, Harry?" came Hermione's question soon after.

Snapping the indicated tomb shut and placing it with the one that had been tossed beside him, he shrugged, "Nothing on dividing enchantments on that one, though it does have a particularly fascinating article on why enchantments should never be applied to shredded toenails, or something of the sort," indeed it was a very interesting article— dry, utterly boring and mind numbingly idiotic, that is.

Ah, sarcasm, how I love thee.

"Now, Harry, there's no need to get snippy about it," Snippy? Who? Me? Never! "Here's another book on the subject, see if you can find anything more in it."

"Sure thing," he answered drolly, bored to tears by the thought of another dry, idiotic book; probably on the uses of enchantments on earlobes.

"And just why can't we just ask Professor Flitwick about it when we talk to him in a couple of days?" Ron cut in from behind his own dusty book, looking beyond bored as well.

"Honestly Ronald," Hermione huffed as she settled herself with a new book beside them, "We need to at least understand the subject and see if what we want is possible before we go and waste the Professors time with meaningless questions. It was already hard enough for them to find some time for us, we should use what time we do have for something constructive, like—."

Almost ready to tune the girl out and getting back to his own book, Harry was a little startled by the warmth that he could feel against his chest. Swiftly closing the book and pulling the chain from around his neck with a happy cry, he tugged the sapphire from under his shirt and held it in his hand, noticing how the little spark within it was steadily brightening.

Ron and Hermione had already fallen silent at his actions, and he could see his bushy haired friend preparing some parchment and a quill. For what, he didn't want to think.

"Greetings, Harry," his little light's warm voice drifted out of the jewel, the light brightening considerably as it did.

"Hello to you too, Aidan," he said with a grin, particularly proud of himself for finding a somewhat suitable name for his little light, even if he didn't have too many places to look in or that much time to find a suitable name for his friend.

"Oh!" came the slightly shy exclamation, as if the other boy didn't know how to respond, "It means 'Little Fire,' does it not?" he asked tentatively, as if unsure of the meaning.

"It does," Harry nodded, somewhat happy that his little light knew what it meant, "it's a temporary name as well, until you are given your own name. That is, if you don't mind?"

"Oh no, not at all," the little light shined brightly, and Harry could almost feel the other boy smiling at him, "it is a lovely name, thank you."

"Good," he answered, in high spirits now that he was speaking with the other boy again. In the last few days, in the recess of his mind, he had sometimes wondered if he had not simply made the boy up. And though he had convinced Ron and Hermione of his new friend's existence and he had the sapphire as proof, speaking to the boy was still that much more convincing, as shown by the looks of awe in his friends faces, "Anyways, Aidan; I would like you to meet two of my best friends, Ron and Hermione."

"Certainly," his little light answered and rippled, as if nervous, before waveringly speaking a greeting, as if unsure, "Hello." Harry briefly speculated if the boy had ever used the word before, since it sounded unfamiliar coming from his cultured, if tentative, voice. He briefly wondered if they spoke another language in this new world, and made a note to ask Aidan when he had the chance. The light within the gem grew fragmented before becoming solid again, as if the boy had been trying to look around, "It is a pleasure to make you acquaintance."

"Hello to you as well, Aidan," Hermione finally snapped out of her silence, "the pleasure is all ours."

"Yeah," Ron piped up again, "it's great to finally talk to you, mate, Harry's done nothing else but tell us about you."

"Truly?" the little light asked brightly, interest and curiosity tinting his tone. Harry could feel his cheeks heating up slightly and simply glared at his best friend. Ron just rolled his eyes at him, even as they focused their sights on the sapphire once more, which Harry had now placed on the center of their tight circle; on top of a stack of books.

"Oh yes," Hermione pitched in, a conspiring glint in her eyes, "he hasn't stopped talking about his 'little light' at all. He's told us everything that he could about you and even asked us to find a way to help you heal faster, which is why we are in the middle of the dusty library doing research."

Harry couldn't help but groan as she mentioned to Aidan how he referred to him as his 'little light,' and he even got the distinct feeling that the other boy was blushing as the small light darkened slightly. Still, it was nothing to his reaction when Hermione told him why they were in the library; the sapphire had literally burst with light and gratitude, and Harry was certain this time that the smile on the boys face must be splitting his head in two.

It took a moment before the light went back to its normal brightness, as if it had taken some effort to control himself, even if a low humming could he heard emanating from it when Aidan answered again, his voice filled with gratitude and even a small bit of fond reproach, "Thank you ever so much, but you truly do not need to do this. I have already told Harry that what he has done is more than enough."

"You don't know Harry as much as we do, then," Hermione rebuked him lightly, but offered no other explanation. "Now," she settled with ink and parchment, "I have several questions about some of the things that Harry mentioned and I hope that you would be able to answer some of them," she said crisply, in that no-nonsense tone that he recognized so well, before opening her mouth once more—

"Wait up, Hermione, not so quick," Harry interrupted before she could gather up anymore steam and turn everything into an interrogation that would certainly scare his little light away. Shooting his friend a restraining look, he told her, "Before grilling Aidan with your questions you should wait to see if he can actually answer your questions, or wants to for that matter," he continued, feeling his protectiveness surge at his bushy haired friend's lack of tact before turning back to the sapphire, "Now, just ignore Hermione, Aidan, she just gets excited about learning new things."

The light within the jewel rippled slightly, both amused and comforted before he settled and spoke calmly back, "It is not a problem. I too am immensely curious about some things; even with our scrying basins we have only managed to gather short observations and minimal knowledge of your world." Giving the impression of a smile, Aidan continued speaking, "I would be honored to answer any of your questions, Hermione, if only you would care to answer some of my own."

Blushing slightly, Hermione only nodded, before realizing that the gesture wouldn't be seen and in stead murmured an embarrassed, "Of course."

"However," Aidan said, the light dimming slightly, "I do not have the time for a lengthy conversation at the moment. The ritual that allowed for me to find you, Harry, drained us far more than we were expecting and as such, it will be a few more days before my power is strong enough to speak with you safely for a longer period of time."

"I see," Harry answered, disappointed slightly that he would have to wait a few more days before speaking with his little light again, though he was concerned as well, "how much time do you have now?"

The light dimmed further, now showing a little bit more effort in maintaining itself, "I am sorry, but my time seemed to have already expired. I just wanted you to be informed so that you did not become worried. I will see you soo—"

And just like that, the little light blinked and receded into a spark once more.

"Well," Hermione pulled herself together first, "you heard him, he won't be able to contact Harry for a few more days, so we'll need to talk with Professors McGonagall and Flitwick without his input." Quickly taking charge or their efforts once more, she quickly discarded some of the less promising books before dividing them between the three of them, "Now, we need to hurry and see if we can find anything useful, so get to it."

Ron looked at the stack of books beside him and picked one up before rolling his eyes in Harry's direction before speaking a, "Yes, ma'am." Ducking a swat at his head they grinned at each other and set to work. After all, they had a meeting at Hogwarts tomorrow.


Early morning on the next day, right before breakfast, the newly apointed Headmistress of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry could be found arranging many of her books and some other trinkets into the office she now occupied. An office that now looked remarkably different than it had been when it the care of her predecessor, Albus Dumbledore. It had become a routine by now, organizing her new office; she took time each morning to arrange her things, glad that it would only be a few more days before she was completely settled in and her workspace was up to her standards. Already she had spent the early mornings of the last week bent to this task, seeing that it was the only way she would be able to get it done.

With Voldemort's defeat at the hands of Harry Potter, the reopening of Hogwarts was a rather sudden decision; informing the students, old and new, even with such late notice was done immediately, and since then it had taken all the time she had to get everything back into some semblance of order.

Not to mention re-securing as much of the old professors as she could; some had already made different commitments after all.

Between the defenses of the castle, the constant stream on interviews for the open teaching positions and the influx of both mail and floo-calls from concerned parents who wanted to talk to her personally before making the decision of whether or not their child would attend, well, she was just glad that she didn't have a constant migraine.

Turning to wave her wand at one of the multiple trunks lined up against the wall, the one closest to her, opened and books started spiraling out of it in an orderly line before they seemed to split randomly and began to shuffle around the empty shelves, depending on their topic or author, as if looking for the best possible place for their individual topics.

As the books took care of themselves, she moved to an already opened trunk that was besides her desk and manually began to remove some of her more valuable souvenirs before placing them where the books seemed to have settled. When she noticed that her Trembling Transfiguration and the Art of Animation series seemed to have found a place, she extracted two of her prized bookends, which were enchanted too actually sooth the books' actual trembling, and swiftly placed them at either side of the seventeen book series, knowing that they would get nervous because of their new surroundings; they tended to jump ship when that happened.

Satisfied when the books settled, she slightly admired the bookends themselves; they had been a gift from Albus and they were both stylized after her animagus form of a tabby cat, one of which was standing on its hind legs while holding the books at the moment and the other was seemingly curled against the other side, taking a nap. They were, of course, animated as well, bespelled by the one who gifted them to her. Should one of the books misbehave, the cats would either stare it into obedience, or swat it into place, though that rarely happened anymore.

With a sad sigh, she turned once again toward the trunk and continued unpacking her belongings, knowing that she should not dwell on the past for long.

She was interrupted from her task not ten minutes later, however, when three of her would-be seventh year students came tumbling out of the fireplace in her new office. Looking at the tangle of limbs that made such a racket, Minerva McGonagall made the correct assumption that Potter had tumbled out of the fireplace first, that Weasley had followed too soon afterwards, and that because he was half asleep the boy hadn't really watched where he was going and tripped over his best friend, sending them crashing into her office.

Ms. Granger, fortunately, waited for the appropriate amount of time or simply predicted this outcome, since she deftly sidestepped her way out of the fireplace and primly cleaned her robes before aiming her wand at her disentangling friends and doing the same. That done, the girl turned toward her, leaving the boys to sort themselves out, "Good morning, Professor McGonagall."

Nodding curtly at one of her favorite students, she waved her wand toward the twirling mass of books still flying around her office and directed them back towards the first trunk, knowing that they hadn't found a place to arrange themselves in yet, the whole process only taking a moment before she turned back towards her students and nodded to the you young men as well, "Good Morning to you as well, Miss Granger, Mr. Potter, Mr. Weasley."

"Good Morning, Headmistress," Potter answered her back with a lopsided grin and slightly sad eyes as he took in the differences apparent in the office.

"G'morning Professor," Weasley yawned with an absentminded nod.

Not really knowing what these three needed, she just ushered them into seats while she stacked her six trunks in the corner of the office and fire-called Filius to inform her Deputy that their expected guests had arrived.

Turning toward the small dining table that she had set up in the upper levels of the office, where Headmaster Dumbledore had kept his telescope and where she kept some of her favorite plants and a few of the more interesting of her transfigured specimens, she sat down and called for tea while they waited, making idle chatter and exchanging news until Filius arrived.

She was extremely pleased that Potter seemed to have recovered so well, and she was relived that his magic was no longer out of control; when asked about it, the boy said that it was part of the reason they were there. The topic soon turned toward one of her more unique birds; a result of an accident during her second year class not four years ago. The bird in itself had been a brightly colored parrot, but in an attempt to turn it into a goblet, it had instead attained a glass-like appearance; now the bird looked like a living, breathing stained glass sculpture.

It had looked much too beautiful to reverse, and she had yet to find a way to regularize the Transfiguration, so she didn't risk the reversal without knowing that she could redo the effect. Hopefully she would have more time for her research within her new position of Headmistress.

Finally, when the small Charms Master arrived and breakfast was served, she learned of Aidan's existence and Potter's plans. It took some time for full explanations to take place, and both Filius and her had a great many questions as well, but by the end, she understood what Potter wished to do and why.

Their ideas were sound, and while they knew that it was possible to accomplish, they didn't exactly know how, or even had the expertise to pull it off. That was where Filius and her, and maybe Remus, who had been unable to make it, would come in. The artifact that they wanted to use was a good base, and she was glad to find a use for it, seeing that Albus hadn't been able to do it.

True, it would take some preparation to pull off, but it was not impossible. Besides, she could see that Potter truly desired this, and she could not turn the young man down, especially after he had done so much for the rest of the wizarding world. The opportunity this represented wasn't lost on her either, and if everything worked properly it would only be a matter of time before everything stabilized and became permanent.

The rewards far outweighed the risks, and Potter was adamant of his decision, which she respected.

Finalizing everything, she made a list of what they would need and handed it over to Ms. Granger, since she and Mr. Weasley would be the ones going to Diagon Alley, and they arranged to keep in contact with any new information. If they encountered no significant obstacles, they would be able to perform the modifications of the mirror two weeks before the term started; after that, it was just a matter of waiting for the spells to settle before anything else could be done.

Hopefully, everything would work out in their favor. After all, Harry's magic depended on it.


"Harry, wake up," someone whispered in his ear. Grunting, he turned on his other side and promptly went back to sleep. "Harry," the whisper became more insistent, though softer, and he had to scrunch up his eyes in an effort to block out the sound.

A few moment later, satisfied that whoever was calling him had left, he buried his face on the pillow and rolled onto his stomach, covers and all, only to startle awake when he felt the sapphire that now rested against his chest was warm, like when his little light had spoken to him before.

Snapping his eyes open, he swiftly sat up and clutched the sapphire in his hands, ignoring everything else in the darkened room and blinking rapidly to clear the spots that danced there at focusing so quickly on the bright light. After all, his little fire light was there, "Aidan, are you still there?" he asked, his voice dry from sleep.

"I am still here, Harry," came a warm, amused voice from behind him, making him turn around with a small yelp, though he couldn't see anything in the darkness. Quickly turning completely around, sapphire held out for illumination, he came face-to-face with a rather transparent face.

Startled and thinking that he was seeing things, he leaned back against the headboard of the bed and groped for his glasses in the bedside table, wanting to make sure that he was seeing right. When the frames rested on his nose, he lifted the sapphire once again, since he had let it drop against his chest in surprise.

What he saw almost made him drop the sapphire once again.

For sitting cross-legged at the foot of his bed was a boy who he could only assume to be his little light, only that he looked like the colored version of a ghost. Only after he got over this fact was he able to see what his new friend look like; his soul's equal. The sixteen year old was only slightly shorter than Harry, as far as he could see, with long hair that reached his neck, but not his shoulders, framing his face; its color could be described between being light brown or dark blond, with honey colored accents.

The boy was slim and his pale face was soft, yet striking all the same, what with the startling blue eyes with its honey colored ring and streaks around the pupil, his slightly arched eyebrows and his small but sharp nose. Harry had never seen another guy quite as, well, attractive, cute, for lack of a better word, but shrugged the matter aside and pushed Aidan's pretty-boy status to the back of his mind, waiting for the time where he could use it to tease the younger boy with it.

Still, what stood out the most was what Aidan was wearing.

It was a formfitting, one-piece ensemble, much like those that Harry had seen in the sci-fi magazines that Dudley had thrown away. It was of a dark blue color with black and white accents, and it had to be the strangest clothing that Harry had ever seen, and that was saying something when compared to what wizards consider to be fashion. Still, it was strangely regal in appearance, what with its high collar and sleek lines.

Taking all of this in as the last vestiges of sleep left him, Harry could only ask for confirmation, "Aidan?"

The boy across from him just gave him a warm, sweet and slightly mischievous smile, "yes, Harry?"

"Is that really you? Was this what you were talking about the other day? When…I mean, how?" He asked, not quite sure how he could be seeing Aidan like this.

The light within the sapphire brightened as the boy across from him grinned, "Yes, Harry, it is truly me," he waved at himself, "This is a form of physical projection, you could say. I had to learn how to do it so that I could have at least some sort of freedom while bedridden. In any case, my power has finally recovered, so I was able to do this now," he finished shyly, looking somewhat sheepish, "I'm sorry that I disturbed your sleep, I am afraid that I was a bit excited and simply projected myself here without thinking of the time. If I am disturbing you, I could easily come back at a later date—"

He trailed off as Harry chuckled slightly, his eyes crinkling behind his glasses, "I really don't mind Aidan. I've been looking forward to talking to you since the last time a few days ago, so don't worry about waking me up, I'm just glad that I can get to talk to you face to face, so to speak."

With a nod of his head, Aidan simply gave a half-smile, looking somewhat embarrassed, "I'm glad. I have wanted to speak with you as well; to learn about you and your world, about your power and your culture and anything else you would be willing to share."

"I can say the same myself, though I have my own share of questions as well; One more important than the rest." He shifted, slightly uncomfortable with his legs tangled in the covers and starting the feel the cold of night against his bare chest.

Aidan, seeing this, just gestured to Harry, "You should lie down comfortably while we speak, then."

Yawning slightly with a laugh, he just nodded his ascent and settled down as Aidan settled beside him so they could speak face to face.

What followed was the longest conversation that Harry had ever had, continuing well into the morning. Harry told Aidan of the wizarding world and a little about himself; he told him about Diagon Alley and Hogwarts; he explained how the Muggle and Magical worlds were separated, and how it was kept that way, which had surprised the other boy immensely.

"Our world has always been united in that respect," he had been told, "both those with power and those without it live side by side, working together and helping each other; never has our society divided like yours seems to have done."

Intrigued about this, Harry learned that Lumentia had not developed technologically like the Muggle world had, seeing that magic was at their disposal; instead, they had developed more organically oriented advancements when their needs grew, so their world was seeped in nature and based around it. Their traditions were strong and longstanding and their culture undivided.

It was more than a little hard to believe, but Aidan promised to tell him more about it later. Equally, Aidan had been surprised by their use of wands to access their magic, asking a series of questions about his Power's Form, it's Sentinel and if he had never seen it, which surprised him even more than anything Harry had told him so far; even more than hearing that the Magical and Non-magical were separate from each other.

"Which brings me that that question that I needed to ask you," Harry told him, yawning massively, "I haven't been able to use my wand since you helped me to control my magic. I know that its there, I just can't access it like before, do you know why?" he asked, and while he wasn't too concerned about it for some reason, everyone else had almost panicked at that fact. McGonagall had almost gone into shock.

Smiling slightly, the light-haired youth simply told him, "Of course it will not function as it has before. Harry, do you not remember? I told you that your power was free now, that it was a bigger part of you; it works alongside you and you will not be able to force it to follow your whims if you try to directed it, your wills are separate at the moment. It does not trust you yet."

Eyes closed and voice soft, Harry simply asked, "Why are they separate?"

Smiling warmly, Aidan responded softly as well, knowing that Harry was on the edge of sleep, "they are separate because you have not met your Powers' Sentinel or come to an agreement with it; you have not seen the whole of it and the shape of it, why would it allow you to use it when you do not even know it?" he finished before extending a hand and trailed warm, silk-like, though intangible fingertips across Harry's cheek.

"But that is something that we can speak about when you have rested, my soul's equal. For now, sleep. I will stay here and guard your dreams," he promised soothingly.

And with that whisper in his ear, Harry Potter fell into peaceful slumber. It was, after all, well past eleven in the morning.


Author's Notes: Well, what do you all think? You have finally met Aidan, though that is only a temporary name. What do ya'll think of him? Let me know, eh?

See ya'!