Joe's Note: I wrote almost an entire recreation of the explanation chapter in Order of the Phoenix before I realized… did you guys really want to waste time on that? It'd essentially be Illyria's random comments inserted in the normal dialogue. Doesn't sound like too fun to me. So we're moving on to the interesting bits. In earlier iterations of this story, this was when the fact that it was set in 2006 instead of 1996 really started to become noticeable. This time, I've slipped it back into the appropriate place on the timeline because… well, I honestly can't think of anything from the more modern muggle world that would impact the story. It's not like Illyria is going to surf the Internet or own an iPhone or anything. Also, in fourteen years, literally nobody across the three sites where it's posted ever called me on the fact that it previously explicitly stated they were going to the Room of Requirement and then they went to the Chamber of Secrets. That's... kind of weird to me, given how detail-oriented a lot of the Harry Potter fandom seems to be.
Dedications & Thanks: To Nicholas, Alexander, Howard, Alonsis2, Connor, MJ, Daniel, Christopher, Fablesrogue, Morgan, Janne, Eric, DireSquirrel, Joseph, Jason, mpop, RileyWestfall, bloodylord, Luke, Zachary, Marc, Ziryo, Elliot, Crusifikz70, Timothy, Leigh, Chris, George, Koby, Ken, Dimitria, William, Invernos, Paul, Pat, Joel, Kentucky Fried Dragon, Warren, Mitch, and Jess for sponsoring me on P-treon, and making it easier for me to spend more of my time writing.

June 18, 1996
The Headmaster's Office
Hogwarts, Moray, Scotland, United Kingdom

"The one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord approaches… born to those who have thrice defied him, born as the seventh month dies… and the Dark Lord will mark him as his equal, but he will have power the Dark Lord knows not… and either must die at the hand of the other for neither can live while the other survives… the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord will be born as the seventh month dies…"

The copy of Professor Trelawney sank back into the silvery puddle at the bottom of the pensieve, and the room was silent for a moment. Harry couldn't believe it. Everything that had happened that night… the past months of odd dreams… almost his entire life, all defined by something his divination teacher had said during a job interview sixteen years ago. "You've got to be kidding me."

Dumbledore shook his head slowly. "I am afraid not, Harry. The prophecy states that the only person who has a chance of defeating Voldemort for good was born at the end of July, nearly sixteen years ago. This boy would have been born to parents who had already defied three times." He paused, as if debating with himself, before sighing. "Actually, that is not entirely correct. There were two boys born at the end of July that year, both of whom had parents who escaped Voldemort three times. One was you… and the other was Neville Longbottom."

"But it's not, is it?" Harry leaned back in his chair, again drawing strength from Illyria's presence behind him. She'd taken up a mirror of their position in the Ministry, standing with her hands on his shoulders, when the discussion began and he was finding it invaluable in maintaining his composure. "Neville, that is. Voldemort chose me on Halloween when he attacked me."

Nodding, Dumbledore raised one hand and tapped his own forehead. "Indeed he did. Notice that he did not choose the pureblood child, the child that his own doctrine says should be the bigger threat, to attack. He came after you, a half-blood like himself. He saw himself in you and struck, sealing the prophecy and marking you as his equal. That is why the disappearance of your scar concerns me so. Prophecies are supposed to be immutable once they start unfolding. I don't understand how it's possible that such a thing has come to be."

Illyria's hand slid through Harry's hair for a moment before gripping it and tilting his head back. Harry stared up at her as she trailed the fingers of her free hand over his forehead. "Luna knew that Harry disliked the attention his scar brought to him, so I removed it when I severed his link to Voldemort. She also believed other girls would find his form more pleasing like this, even though she personally found his scar to be attractive."

Harry realized then that Voldemort hadn't just managed to sneak up on him at the Ministry, but that the entire encounter had been pain-free. He hadn't really given it any thought at the time, being a bit busy and all, but now that things were slowing down… "You mean he's out of my mind for good now? No more visions, no more feeling his emotions, no more pain around him?"

"I told you how tightly the bond between a Qwa'ha Xahn and the one he serves connects them. While I am reasonably certain that Voldemort would not be able to step through your brain into mine, I saw no need to take an unnecessary risk." Illyria had a point there, Harry realized. The prospect of Voldemort gaining access to any of her abilities was - quite frankly - frightening beyond belief. "Besides, I do not share well. Your brain belongs to me."

Coughing softly to get their attention, Dumbledore regarded the pair with a frown. "Prophecies are very powerful and tenacious things, Illyria. Do you truly know the consequences of tampering with forces such as these, especially for such a minor whim?"

Illyria released Harry's head with a slight jerk and stalked forward, gripping the edge of Dumbledore's desk tightly in her deceptively frail-looking hands. The relative warmth with which she'd addressed Harry rapidly fled from her body, a reminder of how mercurial his new master was. "My whims are not minor. Before my fall, I was a god to gods. Now I walk again, and I refused to be bound to a guide who was bound to another. Therefore, I removed his connection to Voldemort. Any consequences are of no concern to me."

"And if you have somehow voided the prophecy, meaning Harry no longer is the one capable of killing Voldemort and saving us all?"

"Then I shall tear Voldemort's still-beating heart from his chest as a reminder to your pitiful wizarding world of what true power is." Illyria gave the edge of Dumbledore's desk one final squeeze, and there was a sharp crack as the wood buckled under her inhuman strength. Stepping back, she seated herself stiffly on Harry's knee as she waved the piece of wood in her hand back and forth slowly. "I am like nothing you have ever met or faced before, Dumbledore, and you would do well to remember that."

Nodding in assent, Dumbledore leaned back in his chair. "Very well. Harry… I have confessed to a great many of my mistakes and done my best to give you the explanations you require this evening. Is there anything else you want to discuss?"

Harry pondered that for a moment and then grimaced. Absorbed in the combination of his new bond with Illyria, the revelation of how badly he'd been manipulated by Voldemort and Kreacher, and the prophecy that had been guiding his life since before his birth, he'd completely forgotten about… "My friends. How are they?"

"Mister Weasley and Miss Granger took the worst of it, although Mister Weasley has already been mostly healed and Miss Granger will be fully healed by the end of term according to Madam Pomfrey. Miss Weasley and Mister Longbottom suffered only minor injuries, and are currently only staying in the hospital wing for moral support reasons." After a moment of pause, Dumbledore sighed and offered an additional piece of information that Harry wasn't too happy to hear. "In addition, Nymphadora Tonks is going to need a few days in St. Mungo's, but her prognosis is good."

Tonks. Sirius's cousin. Lord, he'd done a bang-up job of fucking up that family tonight. Two members dead and another injured, all of it his fault. The thoughts he was doing his best to repress started to bubble up again, and so Harry pushed gently on the small of Illyria's back. She took the hint and rose to her feet. "In that case, we'll be going. Good evening, Headmaster."

"Harry?" Harry paused halfway to his feet and raised an eyebrow curiously at Dumbledore. "Do you have some sort of plan as to where Illyria will be staying, or were you intended to simply return her to Ravenclaw Tower as if nothing has changed?"

Actually he didn't have anything even remotely resembling a plan at the moment, but Harry had no real interest in giving the headmaster an opportunity to exert any control over the situation. Illyria was his responsibility and he would handle it. "No. We'll go up to the Room of Requirement for now and discuss that. But like I told Scrimgeour… I'm her Qwa'ha Xahn, not her keeper. I do what she wants, and she does what she wants."

"Very well. But we will discuss this further, and soon."

"If you insist."

Dumbledore waited until after Harry and his new companion had left his office before groaning and lowering his head to rest in his hands. An Old One. Even Hitler and Grindelwald, in all of their attempts to dive into the darkest of the Dark Arts, had never attempted to resurrect one. Neither, until this point, had Voldemort. But somehow, one of his own students had become the new host of Illyria and taken one of her peers as Qwa'ha Xahn.

How alarming.

What little he knew about the Old Ones was second and third-hand knowledge at best. They predated even the earliest organized human civilizations, and so the accounts were mostly English translations of Egyptian and Mesopotamian writings. Which, in turn, were accounts taken down from the stories of the demons of the time, some of which were already on the second or third or fourth retelling from earlier generations of demons.

Illyria was a name mentioned in almost every writing, though. The God-King, alternately the most feared and most beloved of the Old Ones, depending on whether one was in his good graces. After his death at the hands of a rival, he had been entombed in a sarcophagus and his power channeled into the gems that were then embedded in its lid. How the sarcophagus had survived the test of time and made it into the possession of the Ministry of Magic, however, was something Dumbledore did not know.

The Qwa'ha Xahn also appeared frequently in writings about Old Ones. While the descriptions were generally vague, he now knew from Illyria that it included a magical and emotional bond. And likely a mental bond, given that Harry had been able to communicate with Illyria silently in the Ministry. Had Harry merely traded Voldemort for someone more powerful and evil living in his head?

Then the fireplace flared green and Fudge and his aides stepped through without waiting for permission, and Dumbledore had to push the problem to the back of his mind. There was a war to plan.

He just prayed there wouldn't be a new war to fight after it.

June 18, 1996
The Room of Requirement
Hogwarts, Moray, Scotland, United Kingdom

Sitting in one of the red armchairs that dotted the real Gryffindor common room, Harry watched with a bemused smile as Illyria prowled the room, running her black gloved fingertips over anything and everything that she encountered. Given that he'd never brought Luna around and he didn't remember Ginny ever doing so either, she likely was experiencing something for the first time for herself, which had to be a novel experience for someone who had inherited fourteen years of recent memories to add to her own centuries - or maybe even millennia - of experience.

Eventually, Illyria grew tired of her wandering and slunk back over to perch on the arm of his chair for a few seconds before sliding over and spilling into his lap. Harry let out a faint grunt at the impact; she was startlingly heavy for a 'shell' that had been literally hollowed out by the fires of Illyria's demonic resurrection. "So..."

"You intend to keep me here. Here, in this facsimile of reality that your kind has created." Illyria scowled up at him before nodding in the direction of the tunnel that should have led to the Fat Lady's portrait but in this case ran back out to the seventh floor corridor. "As if I am some sort of pet that you can abandon and visit as it pleases you."

Harry's eyes widened and he shook his head vehemently. "First of all, I meant what I said to Scrimgeour and Dumbledore. I've accepted the new status quo: I'm not your keeper or your owner, I'm your guide. I'm here to help you, not possess you or anything. Far from it. But... well, I do need to sleep and attend classes. I thought that you might like to have somewhere to spend your time when I was occupied with petty mortal concerns like that."

Cocking her head to one side, Illyria considered that for a moment before shrugging. "Your classes are over for the year, meaning you have few pressing engagements that I would choose not to involve myself in. If you still wish to return to Hogwarts next year, we can revisit the matter when the time comes for you to actually attend class." Wait, what? Why wouldn't he return to Hogwarts for his sixth year? Reminding him that their minds were linked, Illyria gave voice to an answer to his unasked question. "You do realize that I can teach you a great many things about magic myself, correct? Far beyond even a wizard like Dumbledore could?"

Well when she put it like that... Harry nodded to concede her point. "I mean, I still might want to come back for the social aspects. Quidditch. Housemates. Um, if you're serious about me finding a Lady Potter, that would go a lot easier if I was still in school and surrounded by prospective partners. But like you said, we can discuss that - and what you'd do if I did come back - another day. Right now, we need to figure out what you're going to do for the short term. Specifically, where are you going to go tonight while I sleep. Because I"m pretty sure that I remember you saying something to the effect of not needing to eat or sleep or most other primitive human things."

"You are correct in stating that I do not need to eat or sleep, although I can do so if I so choose simply to allow myself the experience. Such as when I stated a desire for sticky toffee pudding in the headmaster's office." Pausing, Illyria turned to face Harry and poked his chest firmly. "I still desire sticky toffee pudding and you have still yet to acquire some for me."

Casting about for a clock, Harry quickly gave up as he realized that most witches and wizards probably checked such a thing with magic - hence such interesting constructs as the Weasley family's clock - and he did not know the right spell for that. Still, it was significantly past dinner at this point, which was the only pertinent thing he needed to know about the current time. "You can have some tomorrow. I'll even take you down to the kitchen so you can get it before dinner. But the house elves are probably busy cleaning up after us at this point or doing our laundry or... something. So we're not going to go bother them now in search of your pudding." Suddenly, he realized that he was being awfully commanding toward someone who could rip his spine out with her bare hands if the urge struck her. "Erm, is that acceptable?"

Illyria offered a faint smirk at the question, the closest thing to a smile that he'd seen her display so far. "Acceptable. Logical, or so Luna's memories tell me. Do not get in the habit of giving me orders, though. You are my Qwa'ha Xahn, not the reverse." Turning to sit on his lap with her back to him, Illyria's arms spread wide as she gestured to their surroundings. "As you do stated, I do not need to eat or sleep. You, however, do. Which presents a problem. Because I must do something while you sleep, and I have no particular desire to be around the ones who tormented Luna." So that was a no to Ravenclaw Tower, as well as an indicator that they needed to discuss exactly how Luna and her peers got on before the transformation. "Therefore, I shall return with you to your dorm."

Not exactly what his first choice was, but it was among the options Harry had considered she might pick. Also he wasn't quite sure why the Room of Requirement's version of Gryffindor Tower wasn't good enough but the real thing was. Surely she didn't intend to interact with her former - and his current - peers, meaning one tower was as good as another... right? "I suppose that'll work. Not sure where we'll put you, though. I'm not sure about Ginny's year… maybe Hermione's room?" There were what, eight Gryffindor girls in his year? And that would be an awfully odd number of beds to design a room around. Ten would make much more sense. Then again, Bem's bed had disappeared this year to bring them down to five in his dorm, so maybe the rooms were just as big - or small - as they needed to be? It wouldn't hurt to look, though, Harry figured. "Oh, and we can get your stuff from Ravenclaw Tower tomorrow, just in case you want any of it in the future. Although we should probably figure out where we're putting you before we do that so your stuff has somewhere to go. Hmm…"

"You misunderstand me. I said your dorm rather than Gryffindor Tower intentionally." Sliding off of Harry's lap, Illyria turned to face him as she offered him a hand up. "There are two or three material possessions left that I would be… unhappy… to see go. But I will not go to class and do not need clothes, so the rest are useless to me. Combined with my lack of need to sleep, I do not require my own living space."

Harry was about to ask if she planned to walk around in the catsuit all the time - which would undoubtedly make it harder for him to get the others to feel comfortable around her - when her body… shifted. The patchy, jewel tone catsuit disappeared before his disbelieving eyes, transforming into a more familiar, black and white outfit. When Illyria was done - apart from her decision to replace blue and bronze with his red and gold - she was dressed in a perfect imitation of Luna's Hogwarts uniform. Complete, oddly enough, with her signature radish earrings and butterbeer cork necklace. The end result was an almost normal, albeit blue-tinged, 'Luna' by his side. "That's brilliant. It's like Tonks, but with clothes!" Then something else, something a bit more important, occurred to him, and he stumbled forward a step as he allowed her to pull him to his feet. "Wait, what do you mean my dorm?"

"While I may not require sleep, I know that you still do. You would not be much use to me as a Qwa'ha Xahn if you were killed in your sleep, therefore I will watch over you during your rest periods to ensure your safety." With that declaration, Illyria grabbed Harry by the wrist and led him down the tunnel back to the seventh floor corridor, emerging into the hallway and taking a moment to reorient himself before taking off in the direction of Gryffindor Tower.

As he followed along behind Illyria, Harry debated how hard he wanted to argue with her decision. After all, Peter Pettigrew had lived in his dorm for almost three years, and Sirius Black had broken into it. His dorm was clearly about as safe as Hogwarts itself, which was to say not terribly. He'd never really thought about it before, but he wasn't terribly safe when he was at his single most vulnerable... but he could be. "I guess that could work. The beds aren't that big, though, so it's going to be a bit of a tight squeeze. Unless you were planning on cuddling." Harry pictured himself in bed, limbs intertwined with Illyria's, and blushed faintly.

Hopefully that wasn't the plan.

"Luna frequently wished to cuddle with you. Among other, more carnal things. I am undecided as to whether or not I will fulfill her wishes at any point." Harry blushed a bit darker. Right. Luna had fancied him and those were among the memories that Illyria had inherited from her. He'd managed to forget that with everything that was going on. He probably shouldn't. Reaching the portrait of the Fat Lady, Illyria paused. "I do not know the password. Do you, or shall I remove the portrait to gain access?"

No, Harry thought, tearing the portrait off the entryway would not be the best way to introduce Illyria to her new housemates. "Defiance." The Fat Lady nodded and swung open to grant them access. Harry crouched down a bit and lead the way into Gryffindor Tower, feeling Illyria's fingers in his mind again as she began comparing and contrasting it to the version that he'd created for her in the Room of Requirement. "Welcome to the lion's den. Properly this time." Much to his surprise, none of his fellow Gryffindors were still awake to greet them and so he paused just long enough to let Illyria get a good look at the actual common room before making his way over to the stairs and ascending toward his dorm.

When they reached the door for his dorm, Harry paused again in an attempt to delay the inevitable, but Illyria would not be denied. Slipping past him, she twisted the knob and pushed the door open, entering his dorm and looking around curiously. "This is similar to Luna's room, except decorated in red and gold and significantly messier. I believe I shall impose new standards for order and cleanliness when the others awaken tomorrow." There were three empty beds and she looked back and forth between them before pointing at one. "This is yours."

"Yes." Harry watched as she moved to the head of his bed, pausing for a moment before pushing against the stone wall. It deformed under her touch, forming an alcove in the otherwise circular room. She then repeated the process with the bed itself, leaving it almost a meter longer without sticking out any further into the center of the room. "Why do I have a feeling that watching over me when I sleep might be literal?"

Illyria gave him a peculiar little half-smile as she moved to sit lotus-style at the foot of his bed, her Hogwarts uniform melting away into a t-shirt and sweatpants. Harry recognized the t-shirt in particular as one that Hermione had worn at night around Grimmauld Place the past summer, meaning Illyria had pulled the image from his mind. That in turn made him wonder what - if anything - Luna usually wore to bed, then, if Illyria was taking cues from Hermione for the night. "Because I will be."

Well wasn't that fabulous? He had a new sorta magical wife who was not only violating Hogwarts rules by staying in the opposite gender's dorm, but had decided to outright move into his bed with him. Harry sighed and grabbed his own pajamas, intending to go change in the bathroom before pausing. Wouldn't modesty be a waste of time at this point? After all, if Illyria truly desired the chance to see him naked, she could just tap into his memories and take those images from him. Or possibly watch through his eyes to see it in real time as he changed. Although… even though the bits of Luna left inside her included such things, did Illyria actually have an interest in acting on them outside of pure academic curiosity? Her thoughts on marriage hadn't exactly been centered on the romantic aspects. Adapting his thought processes to incorporate her and her abilities was going to take a while, Harry decided.

Harry changed without further ado and put his clothes out for the elves to collect before getting into bed and sliding under the covers. After a few seconds, he sighed and rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. Near his feet, he barely make out Illyria's blurry form as she sat there staring at him, watching and waiting for a threat that would hopefully never come. Much to his surprise, Harry felt oddly comforted by her presence. She'd chosen him, fought Voldemort for him… like his friends. Like Sirius.

Suddenly, the thoughts he'd worked so hard to repress all evening came roaring back to him. Sirius. Sirius was dead. All because Harry hadn't been willing to be the bigger man, and had risen to Snape's bait instead of working with him. Because he'd been impulsive, because he hadn't listened to his friends, because he'd decided to take matters into his own hands… he hadn't rescued Sirius from certain death. Sirius had gone to his death to rescue him.

"Your mind is unpleasantly busy. I do not understand why you are so eager to assert that the full blame for your godfather's death lies with you." Illyria's blurry form tipped forward and Harry watched as she slowly crawled down the bed toward him. "Your headmaster admits he was at fault, he admits Sirius, Snape, and Kreacher all were at fault… and yet you act like it was solely your actions that brought about his death."

Sighing, Harry propped himself up on his elbows and met her gaze as she drew close enough to be seen clearly. "Well I know you're not exactly upset with how everything turned out because if I hadn't gone to save him, you would still be in your sarcophagus. But just because Dumbledore tells me it's not my fault doesn't make it any easier to squash the guilt. I could have found a way to try and contact someone, especially after we got rid of Umbridge. Used her floo to call someone, or maybe headed down to Hogsmeade and flooed straight to Grimmauld Place. But I decided I knew what was best and now Sirius is dead."

Illyria mumbled something under her breath that Harry wasn't even sure was in English before reaching out and pushing him down onto his back. Her own body then came to rest on the bed, leaning against his left side, and she reached up to run her fingers through his hair slowly. "Our conversation goes in circles, and does little to resolve your issues or help you reach a resting state. You will sleep now rather than subjecting my mind to your angst. I will assist you."

It was a decidedly odd sensation to be… petted… for lack of a better term, but it was also surprisingly soothing. The only contact Harry was familiar with was hugs from Hermione now and then, the same from Mrs. Weasley's, and his relatives' abuse. Although Illyria's touch was a bit rough and her body hard and unyielding where it pressed against the side of his, Harry felt himself relaxing anyway. After a few minutes of silence, he yawned. "I'm probably going to subject your mind to more angst in the morning."

"I know. I will deal with you then."