{Notes} Meh.

Chapter Four

"Must you irritate me in my dreams as well, child? Sleep is the only means of escape from you, and yet, you have somehow ruined that much…" Voldemort hissed in exasperation.

Izar struggled to put his mind together long enough to understand where he was. This couldn't be real. It couldn't.

Through drowsy eyes, he noticed his feet were planted on nothing but stark whiteness. There was nothing but a bright glow as far as the eye could see, with the dark exception of Voldemort. The man was standing across from him, draped in his black hooded cloak. Split-crimson eyes narrowed on Izar, silently blaming him for his current predicament. For their current predicament.

How did Izar get here? Did his spirit unconsciously float toward the only one who could help him? It was all done subconsciously, he knew as such. Voldemort was in a deep meditation or slumber, if he were awake, Izar could have never reached him.

He believed the only reason he could reach Voldemort was because the Dark Lord already had an attachment—a link in his mind. Either that, or the ring on his finger formed a mental connection between the two.

Izar frowned when he realized that Voldemort may be his last hope of surviving. His stomach tightened in knots at the utter defeat of it all. "I need help," Izar admitted sourly.

Crimson eyes widened at his confession before they narrowed on him in disgust. It was almost if the man had predicted him to say as much, to admit as much. But how would that be possible? Did the Dark Lord know about Cygnus? Did the man help orchestrate this?

Of course he didn't.

Through the thick fog in his mind, Izar remembered Cygnus had jumped inside Izar earlier than planned, simply because Voldemort was going to teach him Occlumency. If Voldemort went through with teaching Izar earlier, his mental shields probably would have been strong enough to block out Cygnus' possession.

Voldemort had no idea that Cygnus' spirit now resided inside Izar, slowly eating away at his own spirit. And Izar had fought tooth and nail, but he had been conquered for that one battle. Izar wouldn't give up fighting, but apparently, he was unconscious at the moment, his spirit drawn to the one man who could aid him.

He opened his mouth, realizing that he sounded horribly pathetic, but Voldemort held up a hand, stopping him. "You always seem to get yourself into trouble. Why don't you learn to get yourself out of it?"

Izar blinked, frowning briefly before he glared heatedly. It was obvious that Voldemort didn't believe this… this connection to be real. Or was it simply a dream? No matter what it was, Izar wasn't going to take the man's accusation lightly.

His palms slid down his side until he settled them on his hips. "I always get myself into trouble? I don't think so," Izar seethed. "You are the one who puts a target on me, you careless, lazy, selfish bastard."

Slit-eyes watched him carefully, a light smirk growing across the man's lips. "Better," the man noted arrogantly. "Much better than the pitiful boy begging for help."

Izar tipped back his head in frustration and breathed deeply. He had to keep his jaw clenched tightly in order to stop the irritated groan from escaping. After controlling his reaction, Izar slowly lowered his head back down and leveled the man with a look. "What will make you realize that this isn't a dream and I need… assistance?" he asked calmly, forcing his rage to simmer for later. Now wasn't the time to get in an argument with the Dark Lord.

Voldemort remained silent, obviously not inclined to respond.

"Fine," Izar replied softly. "I will try to do this myself." He paused to consider. "And when I succeed, I expect you to crawl on your knees and beg for my forgiveness. Though, don't expect a grant of mercy."

The man's eyebrows shot up. "Grant of mercy? Child, I have giving you nothing but mercy for your cheek ever since we've met." Voldemort lifted a white hand, stroking his endless fingers in consideration. His expression revealed nothing as he surveyed Izar. "What is it that you've gotten yourself into this time?"

The pain was suddenly back. Izar leaned forward, clutching his chest as his heart skipped a beat before racing uncontrollably. It was almost if he had lost consciousness after Cygnus had taken possession and now he was waking once again—waking up to the pain. He should be thankful that he was actually waking up again rather than floating into nothingness.

"Its…it's in me…he—"

And Izar was thrown back into an endless battle filled with nothing but suffering.

{Death of Today}

"Are you sure you're alright, Izar?" Regulus questioned again, his voice sounding muffled and distant to Izar.

No, I'm not alright, Regulus, but of course you won't hear me… Izar thought in frustration as he struggled to gain control of his body once again. Cygnus caught his advances and threw him backward to the farthest depths of his mind.

It took Izar a long moment to gather himself from Cygnus' attack. He just wanted to succumb, to rest and become oblivious to the pain again. But if he rested, Cygnus would take advantage and destroy Izar's spirit. He didn't know what would happen if he was consumed, but he had his assumptions that he would die and Cygnus would take over completely—just how the man had intended it to be.

Though, Izar knew Cygnus was struggling. When Izar's and Cygnus' mind clashed, there were times when Izar caught glimpses of the man's memories and thoughts. This power-struggle hadn't been accounted for. Cygnus planned to have destroyed Izar as soon as he merged inside of his body.

But he didn't take to account that he had jumped inside Izar's body too early. Cygnus hadn't been in full power and that had caused his bout of weakness. The man also didn't account for Izar's sheer determination. Izar may have been worthless at Occlumency, but he believed his stubbornness and determination were enough to keep up a fair fight with his great-great-grandfather. However, Izar knew the longer Cygnus remained in power, the more strength he would draw.

In fact, Cygnus had plans to visit the Veil and extract the rest of his soul. Izar had learned that only a fragment of Cygnus' soul had escaped the day Izar touched the Veil. And since that day, the soul was slowly seeping out from the Veil and searching for the rest of Cygnus. Cygnus wasn't whole, and until he was, Izar would have a chance at gaining back possession of his body.

He just hoped he could prevent Cygnus from getting into the Department of Mysteries.

"I'm perfectly fine, Regulus," Cygnus responded through Izar's mouth.

Izar narrowed his eyes at Cygnus' response before surveying his surroundings inside his mind. It was… definitely a scene from an overactive imagination.

When he had studied Occlumency during the summer, he was never able to see inside his mind. From what he'd read, everyone's mind took shape of a structure that was familiar to the mind-bearer. Now that Izar was actually residing in his mind, he finally got to see what his mind had constructed itself as.

The main part of his mind, or the forefront of his mind, resembled the Department of Mysteries with its glossy black floors, walls, and ceilings, with large doors. But the similarities ended there. Instead of the equally black doors of the Ministry, Izar's mind consisted of large mirrored-doors that were wide open, inviting anyone inside without a barrier.

His mind was open, vulnerable. And he was also violated with Cygnus' presences. His ancestor seemed to be everywhere.

Izar was currently in one of the rooms that led from the mirrored-doors. It wasn't so much as a room as it was a field. He grimaced as he walked through the waist-height grass, staring up at the purple sky with the luscious white clouds swimming quickly by. He looked back down, observing the paper flowers that looked as they were drawn by a child's hand. They drooped at their stems, looking just as pathetic as Izar most likely appeared.

Not only was the sky full of clouds, but it was full of objects that Izar was familiar with.

There was an old pocket-watch floating across the horizon, looking just like the one Izar had stolen from his orphanage. It was large, probably about three times larger than himself. Suddenly, a large toad followed the pocket-watch, croaking deeply. Izar winced, crouching down and covering his head as if it would protect him from the abnormal sized toad. But he had no reason to fret, for it floated past him just as quickly as the clouds.

He straightened up, feeling foolish.

"You just…" Regulus voice trailed off and Izar looked up at the sky.

If Izar focused, he could hear and see what was transpiring on the outside of his body just as easily as he could see the purple sky above him. The voices and images were blurry and distant, but he had the ability to see Regulus' concerned face.

"Yesterday, in the basement, you looked as if you were in pain," Regulus finished tensely.

Next to him, Sirius was sitting down stiffly. His uncle hadn't touched his breakfast and if Izar were in control of his body, he would engage Sirius in a conversation. No doubt the man still felt uncertain about his loyalties and what path he should follow. Now was the time to reassure Sirius, to seduce him.

But he couldn't. Because Cygnus was him now.

Cygnus looked down at his breakfast, offering a sharp nod toward his great-grandson. "You remember what Cygnus' portrait said, Regulus. I was going through my inheritance. It was painful, but necessary."

Inheritance.

Izar snorted dryly. Was that the best his brilliant ancestor could come up with?

Regulus didn't look too convinced as he dropped his fork and leaned forward. "And your eyes, they're black," Regulus persisted, staring at Cygnus in the eye.

Cygnus shrugged, his annoyance hot on Izar's face. "Just a common side-affect, I'm sure." Sniffing, Cygnus stood up, his silverware dropping at his uneaten plate. "I need to go to the Ministry today. I promised Owen Walden that I would meet with him to discuss the inventions I constructed for the Unspeakables this summer."

It was a lie, all a lie.

Izar watched as Cygnus completely ignored the concerned glance Regulus sent him. Did his father know something was wrong? Of course he did, he just wouldn't continue his interrogation. It was one of the traits Izar always looked highly upon with his father. Regulus never pushed for answers. He respected Izar's privacy. Ironically, invading his privacy was what Izar wanted his father to do now.

"Remember we have a meeting with the judge this afternoon." Regulus sniffed deeply, his hands cupped underneath his chin as he watched Cygnus closely.

Cygnus paused in his steps, gaining Izar's attention. Meeting with the judge? Izar had forgotten about that. Regulus and he were supposed to meet with the custody judge at the Ministry with Lily Potter.

Suddenly, he felt the painful rake of Cygnus as he sorted through his memories, his memories. Izar tipped back his head, screaming as his spirit seemed to flicker at the onslaught and the strong sensation of invasion. Cygnus took the memories he was looking for, discarding Izar's pain.

The Black heir dropped to his knees in the field, trying desperately to keep conscious. Burrowing his head in his hands, Izar focused on the outside world.

Cygnus gave a cold smile toward Regulus. "I wouldn't forget, father."

And Izar knew Cygnus had no intention, once-so-ever, of attending that meeting. He would leave Regulus dry and appearing like a fool before the judge. Izar mourned for that, but he had more important things to focus on.

Like trying to gain possession of his body once again. It was his and Izar would be damned if he let his lack of Occlumency skill be the reason of his downfall. Voldemort would likely find it amusing and Izar wouldn't let Voldemort gloat.

Just as Izar was about to break his connection to the outside world in order to regain strength, he noticed something in the corner of Cygnus' vision. His ancestor failed to see Kreacher watching him in the corner of the room with a scrunched up face and low ears.

Izar quickly drew his awareness away from the outside world as he felt Cygnus leave Grimmauld Place.

He felt oddly smug as he lay in the tall grass and looked up at the purple sky.

Cygnus had a weakness. He was blind to everything but his goal of immortality. He wouldn't think Voldemort was a threat, he wouldn't think Regulus would be suspicious, and he wouldn't believe that Kreacher could have seen what happened last night. Cygnus would be on a one-track mind until he gained his whole soul back from the Veil. And until then, no one was of consequence to him.

And Cygnus' weaknesses were what Izar was relying on.

But would Kreacher and Regulus act before they got to the Ministry?

Izar suddenly felt overwhelmed. Cygnus was on his way now. There was no way someone would stop him.

Narrowing his eyes up at the sky, Izar felt the cold sensation of anger chill his chest and insides. He grabbed hold of the darkness and used it to strengthen himself. He realized the only person who could stop Cygnus was himself. It was of no use relying on others.

Just as he was about to make his way to the forefront of his mind to battle Cygnus again, a shadow fell over his lazy form. He looked up at his intruder before his eyes narrowed into slits. With the dark magic swirling about Izar, his words came out in a hiss.

"What are you doing here?"

{Death of Today}

Regulus stood up as the visitor showed himself into the kitchen.

"I wasn't expecting you, Undersecretary Riddle," he welcomed dryly, flashing a look at Sirius before turning his attention on the politician. It wasn't smart to keep his focus off the man for long, Merlin knew what the Dark Lord had planned.

Brown eyes focused on Regulus briefly before turning away in disinterest. "I've come for the boy," the man replied stiffly. Next to him, Kreacher was wringing his hands together, his lips tugged downward in a heavy frown.

The boy.

Regulus grimaced as he sat down again. "I'm afraid the boy has already departed for the Ministry."

Sirius quickly stood up, excusing himself from the room. Regulus watched his older brother leave and shut the door behind him. His lips thinned before he turned back to the Dark Lord in disguise. The man was dressed in richly sewn robes, clearly signaling he was on his way to the Ministry to fool the world behind a smile.

The Dark Lord flashed Regulus a warning stare, his attention finally becoming absorbed on him. Regulus didn't know what was better; having the Dark Lord's undivided attention or only his sparse consideration. His neck prickled at the continuous stare. The man's eyes were charmed an innocent brown, nothing like his split-crimson. Yet they seemed just as cruel and dangerous. Regulus wondered how Izar was able to stand his ground on the other end of that stare.

Regulus bowed his head in reverence.

"Has he been appearing in good health?"

The question caught him off guard and he looked up at the man in contemplation. He would follow the Dark Lord in the war, he would even fight for him and defend him. However, Regulus' loyalty belonged to Izar and his son alone. He didn't trust the Dark Lord with his son. And he would try his hardest to protect Izar from the man's tainted reach. It never occurred to Regulus that Izar was not the pure child he liked to think of him as. He seemed to forget the changes Izar went through this summer.

"He's perfectly fine, just as well as he was the last time you saw him. Yesterday, if you'd forgotten… My Lord," Regulus replied calmly.

Regulus stiffened when the Dark Lord lowered his chin, all the while keeping his eyes locked on him. A cruel and cold smile stretched his lips as the man took a step closer. "Need I remind you, Black, that you are alive only because your son wishes it? Hmm?"

The man sauntered over to Regulus, his long fingers brushing against the dinning table in his wake. Regulus felt a chilly sensation wash down his spine the closer the Dark Lord approached.

"Master Regulus, sirs—"

Regulus held up a hand to silence the distressed house-elf, keeping his wary attention on the Dark Lord. "Only because Izar wishes it?" Regulus repeated the man's words with a dry voice. "I find it hard to believe that an unmerciful Lord leaves one man alive just for a sixteen-year-old boy's contentment. What is it that you really want with my son, My Lord? Is it sex?"

His pulse was racing with the words of disrespect he was spitting at the Dark Lord. By all means, he should be on the floor in pain, screaming pleas of apology to his Lord. Instead, a wicked gleam entered the Dark Lord's eyes as he leaned down toward Regulus.

"If that were the case, he would be chained to my bedposts." The man cocked his head to the side, a sinister smirk matching his taunting posture. "But he is a delicious boy, is he not? The Blacks are notorious for incest; tell me, do you often see your son underneath—"

"You sick bastard," Regulus breathed, his jugular vein hot with the fury. He only saw red as he looked at a chuckling Dark Lord but willed himself to calm down.

The Dark Lord Voldemort was a master at deceit, with mind games. Regulus didn't know what to believe or what to listen to. He wondered at his own son's sanity. Clearly, Izar must have some sign of insanity to be able to deal with the Dark Lord so often. What was his son like in the Dark Lord's presence? Was he as sick as the Dark Lord? As cruel as the Dark Lord?

"Regulus!"

Regulus stood up abruptly at his brother's desperate call. With one last look at a smirking Dark Lord, he walked quickly from the room and toward the sound of Sirius' voice.

He was surprised to find Sirius in the drawing room, staring at the Black tapestry. "Sirius?" Regulus called, uncertain with Sirius' reaction. The man was standing stiffly, a pallid shade of shock and horror crossing his features.

Before Regulus could ask after his brother again, the Dark Lord stepped into the room.

"What is this?" Sirius whispered hoarsely.

Feeling dread twist his stomach, Regulus took a step toward the Black tapestry. Immediately his eyes landed on Izar's place on the Black family tree. His heart plummeted to his gut as he watched Izar's face turn into a skull before slowly fading back to human. His son's face and date of decease kept flickering back and forth, almost if it was uncertain where to stay.

"And this?" Sirius exclaimed loudly, pointing toward the branch lower in the tree.

Regulus' blood ran cold when he met eyes with Cygnus Black. Instead of a skull and a decease date of 1943, a face of flesh and only the birth date of 1889 appeared.

"Impossible," Regulus whispered. "Cygnus… he's supposed to be dead." He whirled around, searching for the Dark Lord's reaction. He didn't know why he thought the man would express his emotions; it was foolish of him to believe so. The Dark Lord only appeared blank as he studied the tapestry before leveling Regulus with a cool stare.

"He appeared in perfect health, yes?" The man taunted with a light sneer to his lips. "What is the meaning of this, Black? Cygnus' Curse becomes Cygnus' Possession?"

Regulus shook his head, feeling light-headed. He wasn't aware of his breathing becoming irregular until Sirius placed a hand on his shoulder to comfort him. "I didn't know," Regulus whispered. He shakily sat down, his mind reeling with possible solutions to save Izar. Was there any hope?

"I tried to tell Master Regulus," the voice interrupted the tense and shocked silence.

Regulus looked up, catching sight of Kreacher huddling in the corner. "Kreacher," Regulus stood up. "What were you trying to tell me?"

Kreacher looked up at the Dark Lord before turning to Regulus. "In the basement, Master. Master Izar was in pain. Kreacher didn't see Cygnus but he heard Master Izar talk to him. And then Kreacher sees something go inside Master Izar."

Regulus hurried past Kreacher and made his way down to the basement. He wasn't aware of the others following, all that drove him was his son's well-being. With a desperate wave of his wand, he cast a nonverbal Lumos and hunted down the portrait. It sat against the wall, the same place as it was yesterday when Izar had collapsed on the ground.

How foolish could Regulus be? His son had been in relentless pain, yet Regulus believed him when he said it was his inheritance. Ever since Izar woke up yesterday, after his conversation with Cygnus, his son hadn't been the same. It was clear now that it had been Cygnus controlling Izar's body.

The thought made him desperate, almost insanely so. He could feel the dark grow around him and he took power from it greedily.

"What did you do to him?" Regulus demanded sharply. He stabbed his wand at the portrait of his ancestor, ready to tear the frame and painting to pieces with his bare hands. "My son. What did you do to my son?"

Cygnus' dark eyes looked lazily up at Regulus. "It was his birthright as a Black," the man commented laboriously. "Be lucky it was not you."

Spittle flew from Regulus' lips as he hissed at the portrait. His teeth were grinding together so fiercely that sharp pains danced across his neck and cheeks. "That is not what I'm asking," Regulus whispered coolly. "What did you do to him?"

The grim line to Cygnus' lips twitched before he offered a dark chuckle. "What do you think happened?" Cygnus reared his head back and laughed. "The boy should have been dead as soon as Cygnus merged with him. Stubborn little bastard isn't he? I'm afraid, child, as soon as they reach the Veil, he will be gone. Though your admiration is touching, it is unwarranted."

There was a shuffle behind him and Regulus turned, watching as the Dark Lord turned for upstairs. "Where are you going?" Regulus asked desperately. Izar must have left at least five minutes ago, they didn't stand a chance.

A twinkling crimson eye bled through the calm brown. "I have the power to lock down the Ministry, of course."

Regulus hesitated for just a moment before leaping behind the tall figure of the Undersecretary. Sirius was already hot on his heels.

"Don't underestimate him," Cygnus' portrait whispered in glee behind them. "The boy may not know how to use his suppressed powers, but Cygnus created them. You won't stand a chance."

The words chilled Regulus but his determination to reach his son made him flush with adrenaline.

{Death of Today}

"To help you of course," she whispered silkily.

Her long mane of crimson hair pooled to the small of her back as she sat gracefully beside Izar. He couldn't help but to notice her dress. It was a beautiful shade of green and blue, bringing out the bright hue of emerald in her eyes. Her porcelain skin seemed to glow in the purple light of the sky. Her long eyelashes framed her heart-shaped face, bringing attention to her full lips. She couldn't have been a day over twenty-two.

This vision of Lily Potter was a far cry to the one in reality. She was a picture of grace and elegance and her aura draped across her with the brightest of magics. For a brief moment, Izar felt ashamed to be so close to her, tainting her with his dark aura. But he threw that thought away in disgust.

Izar laid back down in the field, slamming his eyes shut in horror. What was he? A bloody pervert? Admiring every delicate curve and hollow of his mother?

Despite all this, he was glad to have finally laid eyes on the woman his father fell in love with. This Lily was the one that allured Regulus. And he didn't blame his father for being star-struck.

"I can do this on my own," he replied gruffly. "I certainly don't need you to help me." He cracked open an eye and glared at her. "How did you get inside my mind? Am I merely conjuring up your image like I am the frogs in the sky?" With a pale hand, he motioned toward the croaking toads in the sky.

She offered a bright smile, flashing a look at the overhead skies. "No," she replied gently. "I am a shard of Lily Evan's soul."

Izar's eyes snapped open and he became utterly aware of everything. Lily smiled and slowly leaned forward to drape her body next to his. She propped her head up with a well-manicured hand and studied Izar through warm eyes. She seemed to be scrutinizing his every feature into her memory.

"You're a Horcrux?" Izar breathed in disbelief. "But that's impossible." Shock made him lay still as she reached out a hand and cupped his cheek. The pad of her thumb stroked the tender skin beneath his eye.

Her lips pursed into another smile. "How is that impossible?" she asked dryly.

He stared at her in skepticism. "Horcruxes are the darkest branch of magic. You fight against the Dark Lord who has Horcruxes," he fibbed easily at the last bit. He had to remember that Dumbledore and Lily believed Voldemort to have Horcruxes. And Voldemort wanted them to believe as such in order to hide his status as a creature. "You preach against killing, and yet, you seemed to have killed someone out of cold blood to create a Horcrux."

Her green eyes dimmed and she looked down at the matted grass. "Whereas I have only one Horcrux, the Dark Lord has several. And he continues to use the Dark Arts for pleasure. The day I constructed this Horcrux was the day I vowed to never touch the Dark Arts again."

She had been living a half-life since the day she constructed the Horcrux. When Izar had first met her in the Department of Mysteries, she had appeared almost dead. It wasn't just out of grief over her past, but it was also because her soul had been torn. It suddenly made sense.

"Why did you do it? Why construct something so Dark?" he asked evenly, allowing the hand to say upon his face. He already had his suspicions of why Lily constructed a Horcrux, but they all seemed…

She sighed softly, staring up at the clouds and frogs once again. "When I held you in my hands after I gave birth to you, I was consumed with grief and an overwhelming sense of love. I knew I would never feel such love again after I gave you to the Muggle orphanage. I felt as if a part of me died the day I gave you away. I threw myself into my work at the Department of Mysteries, the Death Chamber in particular."

Lily paused, her face unreadable as she watched a passing Portkey in the skies. "With my continued work, I began to notice a single spirit taking residence in the forefront of the Veil. Days on end, I would listen to him until I went mad at the hours I spent before the Veil. There were some days my colleges had to pull me away from it, but eventually, I started to realize who the man was on the other side. Regulus once told me Cygnus' Curse was Necromancy. And I began to realize that he was wrong. It was possession."

Izar gave a dry snort, rolling his eyes upward at the passing clouds.

Lily moved her hand down Izar's cheek and laid it on his chest. "I became… frightened when I realized what Cygnus intended. And while I didn't know for sure if you were his intended vessel, I knew it was a possibility. Becoming desperate, I did the only thing I knew would work. I created a Horcrux. I stored away part of my soul inside the Veil, on Cygnus' spirit in particular. I merged with him and he's oblivious to my tag-along. With my presence, I have to power to protect your spirit—to keep you grounded in your own body."

Her face fell. "I did a terrible thing by constructing that Horcrux. I murdered an innocent man. But I was fueled by my desperation to keep you safe. All I could remember was holding you and feeling that strong emotion that came with it. You were so innocent, an innocent in this whole game I played with Regulus. I'd be damned if I allowed the possession to kill you just because you were born."

Izar sat up, her hand slipping from his chest. He frowned at the paper flowers, his thoughts a mess. It wasn't in his nature to feel pity or strong compassion, save for the ones he truly cared for. He was dark by nature. He turned a cold shoulder to men and women if they were suffering; he hated Muggles and disliked Muggle-borns.

But he couldn't help but to feel something at Lily's act of desperation. Not only did she risk her own life by living without part of her emotions, without a part of her soul, but she sacrificed her purity in the Light by doing something she can never take back.

"I can confidently say I would do this all over again, my son." Lily sat up with him, her eyes glued to his face. "I did it out of a mother's love, but I also did it out of selfish means. I felt guilty and torn up over what I did to Regulus and you. I wanted those emotions gone and I believed a Horcrux could take them away." She peered at him closely. "Did it work? Do I still seem to harbor that devastating guilt? I deserve it, but I…"

He stared at her, seeing nothing but a woman lost in her own past mistakes. "No," Izar breathed. "You feel no guilt for what you did to Regulus. But… you claim you feel regret for what you did to me."

He didn't comment that she had probably seen his interaction with Lily Potter. If she had been with Cygnus' sprit since he'd escaped the Veil, she would have been there at the Second Task. Or perhaps she only blinked in and out of existence when she and Cygnus were at their strongest.

This Lily before him would have no memory of what she did after she constructed the Horcrux. This younger version of Lily was what Lily Potter had been like before she constructed the Horcrux and lost most of her emotions and humanity. Nothing was on her mind but the desperation to save her son and the hope to numb away the guilt for what she did to Regulus and Izar.

"Do you feel regret for what you did to Regulus?" Izar pondered. "Your older self claims you do not, and that you'd do it all again for the Light."

She gave a shaky smile. "At the time I believed I was doing it for the greater good, to destroy the rising Dark Lord. But afterward, I was consumed with anguish. What I did to him was no better than what the Dark side would do to their own people. I manipulated his feelings, his trust, and turned it against him. And what I did to you— I conceived you as bait."

Izar could see her inner turmoil. He wanted to hate her, to tell her over and over again that he didn't need her help. What she did to Regulus was unforgivable and Izar couldn't comprehend why she did it in the first place. But he found himself silent of his accusations. This Lily was truly remorseful for what she did. And if she was remorseful, then Lily Potter was once remorseful before the Horcrux had been constructed.

Regulus and Severus Snape once claimed that Lily Evans would never feel remorse for what she did.

But Izar was looking firsthand at the evidence. They had been wrong. This Lily before him had nothing to gain by lying to him. She couldn't merge back to her former self and she had nothing on her mind but helping Izar gain control of his body.

He didn't know how this would change his view on Lily Potter, but right now, he was free to enjoy something he'd always secretly wanted.

A mother.

No one would find out about how soft he was being, simply because it was in his mind. Once Cygnus was destroyed, Lily would go with him. There was no way she could reach Lily Potter once again and tell her everything. Izar could enjoy this brief second of comfort. Consequences be damned.

He reached out and curled his hand around her fingers. She looked taken aback at his action. And if she had been watching him since that day she escaped the Veil with Cygnus, Izar couldn't blame her. She would have seen everything that Cygnus had. She would have seen Izar torturing the Muggle during the Yuletide festivities. She would have seen him trading spit with the Dark Lord against the rough bark of a tree.

Despite this, she still seemed to view him as the most angelic boy she had ever met.

"I forgive you." The words came out of his mouth before he could stop them.

But again, he had to remind himself that this wasn't the real Lily Potter. There was nothing wrong with reassuring this shard of Lily's soul that he forgave her, that he wanted to touch her and see her. A deep part of him wished there was more time to get to know this woman, but he knew that was unrealistic.

Her face crumbled as she leaned forward and engulfed him in a hug. "I don't deserve that. But it means so much to hear it."

Her fingers tightened around his body and Izar found himself slowly relaxing in the hold.

The embrace lasted about five seconds until he grew uncomfortable with the cuddling. He pulled back, trying to swallow the disgust at how soft he was behaving. The hug he shared with Lily wasn't as warm and life-changing as he thought a mother's hold would be.

He decided that the absence of her in his life had cooled that desire to have a mother. As a child, he had always dreamed of a warm mother's hold and the caresses on his face. Clearly, that child's hope and desire had dried out the older and colder he became.

Odd, he didn't feel that way with Regulus.

He offered her a brief smile. "What do you have planned?"


{Notes} Hmm…

Thanks for the reviews last chapter. Sorry for my extended absence.