"Albus, are you sure this is the right course of action to take with this boy?" Professor McGonagall asked. "How do we know he isn't a spy or something? What with the current circumstances with You-Know-Who, it may not even be safe for him if he's not a spy."
"Minerva, this boy wished for it. Now I don't know how he found out about Harry, but I think he should have the chance to know if he wants this or not. The boy's almost fifteen after all," Professor Dumbledore replied, a wise look in his twinkling light blue gaze. "Perhaps we could send him here for a year, but it would only be a dream. A dream where he would be here physically, no doubt, but he could decide at the end to make it a reality. We could speed up time without making it seem that way, but the Muggle world would only notice one night pass. Of course I would have to clear it with the Ministry o—"
"Albus, think about it. What if he chooses to remain a Muggle at the end? He could go blabbing our secret to the entire world."
"I don't think that will happen though, Minerva. The boy is highly mistreated. I'm sure if he decides to stay here at Hogwarts, we can find him a permanent home."
Professor McGonagall shuffled nervously in her seat. Obviously she thought the idea was ludicrous, but Professor Dumbledore usually knew what he was talking about. "I suppose if he chooses against this in the end, he will only think it a dream."
"Thank you for your support, Minerva."
~*~*~*~*~*~
Aidan woke up the morning after the wish. He seemed comfortable and wondered to himself how that could be. His eyes were still closed and his lumpy bed didn't seem too lumpy anymore. In fact, when he opened his eyes, he found that he wasn't in his bed at all…or his room, for that matter.
The disgusting yellow sheets that once covered his previous bed had been replaced with soft, satin sheets of deep crimson. The fine oak finish of the comfortable bed went well with the now-huge room painted hunter green. There were strange gizmos whirring throughout the room and the posters and ornaments that decorated it matched Aidan's personality so well that it seemed that he might have been there all along.
Still shocked, Aidan crept downstairs (which were not part of his old house either) and listened for any clue of where he was. As he neared the bottom steps, he peered out the window to see outside. The houses outside were just as big as the house he was in seemed to be. Finally he did hear voices coming from behind him.
He followed the voices to the kitchen which looked as though it was big enough to accommodate twenty people for dinner. Inside he saw two very nice looking people chatting over a mug of coffee. They were definitely not his parents. The woman looked up. "Well hello, sleepy-head. You slept so long, I was just about to go get you up," she said with a smile.
"Um, who are you?" he asked, extremely confused. The woman's expression suddenly changed to concern.
"Aidan, are you okay, honey? I'm your mother, Jennifer O'Reilly."
Aidan was completely dazed. This is all a dream, he thought. This is all a dream, it isn't real.
"Aidan, are you okay, son?" the man ventured, the same concerned look on his face. "Did you hit your head or something?"
"Um, no I don't think so. Who are you?" Aidan asked again.
"I'm Sam, your dad. Are you sure you don't need to see the medi-witch or anything? You know she lives just down the street."
Medi-witch? This small word threw him for a loop. Witch. The wish! Could this possibly not be a dream?
Aidan tried to sound as normal as he could without knowing his two alleged parents. "No, I'm fine, Dad," the last word came out hard like he had never used it before. "Do we have a photo album, or a family tree or something?"
"Of course, son. It's in the library. Can you remember where that is?" Sam asked with a shadow of his previous look of concern.
"Sure, I'll just go change first." He needed an excuse to explore the path to his new bedroom so he would be able to find the library. Library. They had a library.
As he studied the path to his bedroom, he found a rather large room with books from floor to ceiling. Aidan pinched himself just to know that it wasn't a dream, it hurt so he decided that he should go change. My gawd, this is real. How can this be real? He thought.
~*~*~*~*~*~
It was Friday and Harry had just arrived at the Leaky Cauldron, the gateway to Diagon Alley. Uncle Vernon had finally (after days of begging) agreed to take Harry to London, but only because he had to buy a present for Petunia for their anniversary. As he stepped inside the shabby old building only visible to the wizard eye, he saw the wizened old bartender, Tom. Tom gave Harry a warm smile and pointed to the back door. "Diagon Alley, Harry?" he asked.
"Yea, I have to get my school things." Just then, Harry saw a flash of flaming red hair come from near the stairs. He immediately knew who it was. "Ron!"
It was indeed Ron Weasley, Harry's best friend. "Harry! I knew I'd find you here. You usually come this way don't you?"
"Yea, I don't have Floo Powder after all."
"Onto Diagon Alley then? Hermione's already there, I just came in here to see if you got here yet."
"Okay, let's go."
Harry quickly led the way out of the back door and touched the brick that would reveal the gateway to Diagon Alley. Suddenly, in a flood of light, the passage was revealed and Harry stepped into the wizarding world once again. Harry had become quite used to Diagon Alley by now since he had spent the last two whole weeks of summer there before third year. His favorite shop by far was Quality Quidditch Supplies, which sold Quidditch robes, broomsticks, servicing kits and the four balls involved in the game.
Memories flooded into Harry's head of summers past, when he was worry free. Voldemort had been too weak to fear and nothing else seemed to scare him. Harry had walked down the alley so many times without a care in the world, buying ice cream sundaes from Florean Flortescue, admiring expensive brooms in shop windows, replenishing school supplies. But now, Voldemort was back and Harry wasn't as scared as he thought he would be, but scared nonetheless.
"There you are Harry! I've been waiting for you to write, it's been ages!" Hermione said when she spotted the two coming from the Leaky Cauldron.
"Oh I know, but you know Uncle Vernon," Harry lied. The fact was that he was too upset to write to his friends.
"Really? I thought he was too scared of you?" Hermione asked, being the smart witch she was.
"Let's shop, shall we?" Harry said, ending the conversation.
The next two hours were filled with school and window shopping. Hermione got a lovely owl she named Charminia at Eelyops Owl Emporium while Harry bought himself a fine set of Quidditch training devices. His favorite was the snitch simulator. Have your own Seeker training sessions in the privacy of your own room! After all their shopping needs were complete, Ron, who was getting restless said, "Florean Fortescue's anyone?"
As the three made their way to the ice cream shop, Hermione, who had still not stopped badgering Harry, badgered on. "Harry, will you please tell me why you haven't written at all? I've been really worried, you know."
"'Mione, it's no big deal. I just haven't felt up to it. Dudley sat on me," he answered coolly, but the clever witch saw right past him.
"Harry, you may be taking this whole situation in stride, but this is big. You-Know-Who's back in power! You can't joke about this, for all I knew you were dead! Stop with the sarcasm, okay? We all have to communicate a little better now. No secrets," Hermione said, tears now streaming down her face. Harry could see that she really was worried about him.
"Okay, Hermione, I'm sorry. I just haven't had a good summer, alright?" That seemed to cheer her up a bit and they continued down the alleyway. The rest of the walk was generally quiet and gave Harry more time to think about the strange letter he had received about the wish from Dumbledore on his birthday. A fifteen-year-old Muggle convert? It sounded even more odd when he put it in those terms.
Harry and Ron seated themselves at a table outside of the shop immediately, leaving Hermione to go inside and order the ice cream. As the shop bell tinkled when she went through the doorway, the boys could unmistakably hear her mutter "Boys." Harry took this opportunity to fill Ron in on the strange events of his birthday.
"Really? Dumbledore actually did that?" Ron said after Harry finished. "Where's he going to get magic and learn to use it? He's fifteen. And how'd he find out about you? You don't suppose Colin Creevey—"
"No. The boy's thick, but not that thick," Harry said finally. Colin wasn't that much of a bother to go blabbing the most protected secret of the entire wizarding world—the fact that it even existed. "No, I reckon there's another way. Just, how?"
"That's the problem, I guess." Then they heard the tinkling of the shop bell again which told them that Hermione was back.
"What's a problem?" she asked. For the next fifteen minutes Harry filled Hermione in on the conversation. By the end, Hermione was dripping ice cream down her front. "Oh, Harry! That could be Dark activity, that could! Maybe he got information from a Death Eater or something!"
Harry pondered that for a second then decided it couldn't be true. "If a Death Eater wanted to get near me, he would hire a fully-trained wizard."
"If he just wanted information, he could hire an unsuspecting person to relay it to him without even their own knowledge!" Hermione countered.
"True, but I don't think that's the case here. I just think he fell upon this world somehow and liked it better than the Muggle world, and, let's face it, who wouldn't?"
"I suppose," Hermione sighed.