Warnings: Meh. What usually accompanies war/battles; death, blood, gore… bad grammar. Well, the grammar bit doesn't accompany a war; it's just one of the warnings. ;) Most of these warnings are for the next chapter.

Thanks to all of you who reviewed.

Enjoy.

Chapter Thirty Four

His face.

Lucius had seen that emotion before. Certainly never on the man before him, but on other men who realize something is out of their control and they could do nothing to stop it.

Granted, the face was crafted into the finest stone of impassiveness, but Lucius was no fool. Beneath the thick mask and the indifferent attitude, Lucius could see a strong sense of helplessness and concern. The Dark Lord was feeling something, experiencing something human. And Lucius was the first Death Eater, with the expectation of Izar, to see something so vulnerable coming from the Dark Lord.

Deciding to avert his attention away from the unfolding scene in front of him, Lucius continued to stare sharply at the turned face of his Lord. The crimson eyes had yet to leave Izar's fallen form. It was if Dumbledore, the Potters, and Lucius were not even present.

The wards bucked near his feet, startling blond when small shock-like static danced up his legs. He turned away from his Lord and toward the ground. Through the gold veil of the wards, Izar was trying to reach Lucius' feet, all the while, struggling to remain as upright as he could. Quickly, Lucius crouched down low in order to hear the boy clearly.

"Izar," he breathed, reaching out toward the wards. He wasn't surprised when his fingertips hit a visible barrier and bounced backward. Assessing the trembling wizard, Lucius pondered why the boy was reaching out toward him and not the Dark Lord. Surely… he would want to speak to his lover?

"Fools," the boy rasped. Slowly, a chuckle began to escape from behind the boy's mask. Pity Lucius' last memory of his shameless fascination would be that of a gold mask and not the flawless beauty beneath. "Are you two just going to stand there? The Ministry is here…" somehow, Lucius found the words understandable through the agonized tremor and the harsh intakes of air.

Lucius pulled away before turning and observing the approaching Ministry a few yards away. They had their attention on the group of Death Eaters who were doubtlessly immobile and uncertain as to what was occupying their Lord.

"Go," the Dark Lord ordered. Apparently he had heard Izar despite the whispered words.

"My Lord," Lucius exclaimed softly, casting a look at James and Lily Potter. "What of you?"

"I am needed here and you are needed there. Go."

Lucius was torn. He admired Izar enough to want to stay behind and assist any way possible, he was also intrigued to watch the drama behind the Potter loyalty unweave, but he knew all those temptations were pale in comparison to his own loyalty to the Dark Lord. And to imagine that his Lord was opting out of a battle in order to stand guard over a boy who was slowly fading from existence. It solidified Lucius' suspicions that Izar was far more than just a plaything to the Dark Lord. They were lovers, yes, but to what extent?

"I wish you luck, My Lord. I will see you and Izar on the battlefield." Naturally, his tone was smooth and unaffected. Though, in reality, he felt bitter uttering those words. There would be no Izar, would there? Would the Death Eaters be stuck within the wards like trapped animals? Wards that included the spirit and entity of a boy who had sacrificed many things for this war? It was revolting. Even more so when Lucius realized he was hoping the Potters would succeed.

Lucius lifted his chin as he backed up. The boy on the ground turned his neck and watched him through the heavy mask. Those eyes were vulnerable, so full of pain and struggle. Yet, Lucius could still see shadows of defiance. He realized the boy was surviving this long in his physical body because he was stubborn and refused to be defeated.

"I said go," the Dark Lord commanded with a roar. The man's cloak snapped around his feet as he took an advancing step toward Lucius. His features were angrily contorted, a weak and flimsy mask Lucius could easily see through.

Nonetheless, he gave a sharp nod and followed instruction.

If they were going to be herded inside the wards until they were either killed or taken into custody, Lucius wasn't going to fall without a fight. He owed that much to the boy at his back.

{Death of Today}

"I am only trying to make things right. You don't want to do this, James," Albus tried to reason with him in a soothing and pacifying tone. His wrinkled hands rose in the air, and yet, his wand was still resting confidently between his fingers.

James kept his own wand stubbornly next to the Headmaster's head, wondering when the hell he decided to throw years upon years of loyalty out the window for a boy who was the Dark Lord's right-hand man. But no. No. This wasn't for Izar Black, the notorious Dark prodigy. This was for Lily and her son.

Lily and her son. Those were the words he tried to keep repeating to himself as he followed Lily tonight. He had ignored an emergency call from the Aurors, he had abandoned his comrades during battle, and he had subjected himself with doubts that still felt like suffocating weights on his chest— all in order to follow Lily.

It was always to follow Lily. Wherever she went, whatever she believed, he followed. It was his duty as a husband and as a friend. Always.

"No," he whispered in bitter agreement. "No, I don't want to do this, Albus."

He cast a sidelong glance at the Dark Lord on the other side of the pulsating wards. The cloaked figure seemed to pay him little attention, but James knew the man wasn't oblivious to a single thing happening in his proximity. Even from the other side of the wards, James could still sense the overpowering and commanding magic surrounding the man. It sent unwelcoming chills down his spine. For many, the magic would be seductive, tempting, but James could detect the oily undertones that made it possible for him to resist.

Straining to keep an eye on Dumbledore, James dropped a quick glance at the boy on the ground. "But you leave me no choice," James murmured. "What you're doing is something I cannot accept or support. It's morally wrong."

The boy, cloaked heavily in his Death Eater uniform, finally lost his silent battle and fell to the ground fully. He buried his masked face into the ground, refusing to give either his Lord or his enemies the satisfaction of looking into his eyes. The only thing that gave way to his suffering and stubborn fight were the gloved fingers anchoring themselves into the ground.

James pursed his lips, turning away from Lily's child. There was a small part of James that loathed the boy with every fiber of his being. The child took after Regulus and Bellatrix Black far more than he did Lily, and because of that, the boy was a bad influence on Lily. The boy was also dangerous, far too smart for someone of his age and power status. Obviously, if the boy wasn't a threat, the Dark Lord wouldn't take such a liking to him.

Though, there was also another part of James that harbored an entirely different view on the boy. Even if he hadn't interacted with Izar all that much, he had seen a great amount of Lily in him that hid behind the Black traits. Granted, it was the part of Lily James hadn't seen from her in many years, but it was there, and it reminded James of the reason he had sought after her. Mother and son both had a glow that drew people to them, a certain appeal that others found hard to resist. They excelled at charm and mystery, an open invitation for anyone foolish enough to walk into their enthrall.

It was all there. Even Lily's past warmth was in Izar, albeit dim. If the boy didn't have emotions or morals, he wouldn't have brought Sirius' body back the day after the attack. And if Izar wasn't Lily's son, he wouldn't have the strong sense of devotion to his family and those he deemed under his protection.

"I am not killing him," Albus responded evenly.

"No, something much worse," Lily growled in return.

She met James' eyes over Albus' shoulder and a silent look of gratitude danced behind the eerily bright eyes. James would go as far and claim they were the brightest he'd seen them in a long time. It only made him suspicious to what Lily's intentions were. When he followed her here, she had been oblivious to his presence. Naturally, she had her own plan, one that hadn't involved James. So how had she planned on defending herself against Albus without another's aid?

Already, James could see her inching closer to Izar's fallen form. If he noticed, he was sure Albus noticed as well.

"Lily," Albus warned desperately, having caught her objective. "You must see he is the enemy. His existence is going to be used for the better—"

"You enjoy the sound of your voice far too much, old man," the Dark Lord finally stepped in. His verbal attacks were the only thing available to him at the time, seeing he was unable to attack past the wards without harming Izar further. "You sprout nonsense as if you actually believe it yourself. What a truly vile mind you have, Albus. Why not just kill the boy and get it over with?"

"It would make your job too easy, Tom."

"Ah," the Dark Lord sighed gleefully as if he just received a large prize. "So you admit you aren't doing this for the better good, but in order to spite me as if the boy actually means something to me."

Dumbledore chuckled as he lifted his wand. James tightened his grip on his own wand, knowing that this upcoming battle might prove futile. While he was considered a top Auror, Albus was a Lord. Their power was not on the same level, but James' determination might be the one factor that equaled the playing field.

"You love the boy," Dumbledore murmured. His back was still turned to James and his eyes were calmly following Lily's slow progress to her son. As soon as someone made a move, all hell would break loose. "Why else would you be here if otherwise? It truly does sadden me that I have to get rid of the only one who can ground you, Tom, but he is a dangerous enemy. Perhaps… even more dangerous than yourself only because he can control your actions just as well."

James frowned, continuing to stare levelly at the back of Albus' head. What nonsense was the man spouting? The Dark Lord loved Izar? James felt ill at the thought of it and only hoped that it was a platonic-sort of love and not sexual by any means.

"As well, this was planned particularly to protect the students and Hogwarts, not just to destroy Izar," Albus continued. "By completing this ritual, Izar will have a hand in saving innocent lives tonight and also putting a stop to the war. Your army will not be able to leave the wards without the Headmaster's permission."

James averted his eyes from Lily, who was whispering beneath her breath, and back to Albus. Was it really that horrible what Albus was trying to accomplish? James could only see the positives to what the Headmaster was putting Izar through. One life would be sacrificed in order to save hundreds. If Izar's entity was absorbed by the wards, the war would be put to a stop tonight and the children would be safe in the school.

"Which is why I cannot allow you to continue, Lily," Albus mourned. It was his only warning before he lunged at her.

Despite James' loyalties to the Light and his heavy uncertainties, his love for Lily made him react just as quickly as Albus. He barely had time to divert the magic away from Lily and into the surrounding trees. James rolled to the ground, avoiding a second attack by Albus. The thing with Lords was that they enjoyed throwing around magic, not bothering with specific spells or curses. They just created and manipulated the magic to their own desire. An enemy like that was hard to battle against.

He was on the constant offense as he tried to lure Dumbledore's attention away from Lily. He tried casting shallow cuts to the ankles; he tried to cave the ground in; he tried to conjure obscuring clouds in front of the man's face… anything. Anything but critically attacking a man he had looked up to since childhood.

His attacks could do little to stop Albus, though. The man just batted James' curses away as if they were a mere inconvenience. Nevertheless, James was effectively buying time for Lily. But was that really what he should be doing?

James swallowed the lump in his throat as he witnessed her stepping inside the wards with her son. He knew then, exactly what she was planning on doing. Perhaps his presence really wasn't necessary for her plan. Perhaps, by now, even if Dumbledore wanted to tear her out from the wards, he wouldn't be able to succeed. Nonetheless, James needed an outlet and he would continue fighting.

There was something oddly bitter about putting more effort into his attacks against Albus Dumbledore. Perhaps it was because he knew he could have possibly saved Lily's life by stopping his attacks on Albus. Instead, he was giving her protection in order to sacrifice her life to save her son. He was willingly stepping aside and sending the woman he loved to the grave.

Blinking past the moisture in his eyes, James grew fiercer against his attacks on the old Headmaster. He would be damned if he let her sacrifice go to waste.

{Death of Today}

Magic like this was… well it certainly was something else.

Izar could only close his eyes against the onslaught of magic and power. When he was first introduced to the world of magic at age eleven, he had been overwhelmed for days after feeling Dumbledore's aura. Even Voldemort had a strong aura that took days to grow used to. But their magic was nothing compared to this. The magic currently washing around and through him was ancient and potent. There was nothing subtle about it.

The wards around Hogwarts teased him with lingering and seductive caresses before turning into hard, painful hands that pulled and clawed at him. His insides twisted in denial as the wards took on the role of a personal tormentor. He moaned fiercely, slamming his eyes closed tightly, watching as white dots danced beneath his closed eyelids. When the fingers closed tightly around his stomach and torso, overpowering Izar with its magic, he found himself blacking out for seconds at a time before his determination grounded himself back in reality.

When the claws unhooked themselves from his insides, gentle fingers of the wards soothed him and whispered sweet words of encouragement.

Come with us…

As soon as Izar refused, the claws would hook back into him, beginning the endless cycle all over again.

It had been easier to resist and stand his ground against the endless attacks when Dumbledore first threw him into the wards. But now, after the unending pain and gentle coaxing, Izar was finding it hard to bring himself back down to reality when the pain grabbed hold of him. He was afraid, that once he lost all sense of reality, Dumbledore's ritual would be complete. Izar would lose his physical body and become one with the wards.

And it frightened him. There were times he was afraid to die, but he usually accepted it soon after. But this. This wasn't just death; this was an endless existence of nothingness, of being trapped around Hogwarts and forced to protect it against any threat.

The wards were obsessed with Izar. Magic had its own personality, he knew. Earlier, when he had stood outside the wards and tried to tear them down, they had cooperated, albeit reluctantly. They had wanted to please him. But now that he was inside the wards, he had no control over them and they were more than happy to oblige to Dumbledore's ritual and consume him whole.

Izar arched his back up as the claw-like magic pierced him again, sending his mind spiraling in a black abyss. It would be so easy to give in, to stop the pain. And yet, the presence standing solidly beside him reminded Izar that he wasn't that weak. "Tom!" Izar called helplessly into the ground.

The Black heir trembled against the onslaught of pain and magic. He had always loved magic, no matter the depth or the temperament. While he was going through the worse mental and physical pain he had ever experienced, he still thought the wards were something incredible. The whispers of the past spoke to him. If he listened too close, he was afraid he wouldn't be able to resist following the strong current of magic.

The pain slowly ebbed away and Izar prepared himself for the next phase in the cycle—the seductive caresses and promises. Only, the hands grabbing his face seemed more solid than they had before. The warmth was so unbelievably soothing that Izar wanted nothing but to bask in it for eternity.

"Izar, come back to me."

Oh, but Hogwarts' wards were good! The voice calling him was softer than the voices from before, far more placating. If he had to endure this over and over again, he knew he would never be able to resist losing grasp of reality and succumbing.

A hand stroked his cheek softly, almost reassuringly. Izar felt his cold-blooded and lifeless body turn pleasantly warm. He had never felt this warm before, even when he was human. It wasn't scorching hot, just a comfortable and lulling warmth.

"Izar, open your eyes."

He frowned deeply. He was still able to feel the wards, but the warmth, the cocoon, seemed to ward away the whispers of Hogwarts' past and stop the prying fingers from reaching him. Blinking open his eyes, he found himself kneeling on the ground with his Death Eater mask lying abandoned near his legs. How had his body moved without his knowledge? Had he really been that close to surrendering to the magic that he hadn't noticed when he sat up?

Izar exhaled sharply, his mind still struggling to catch up to speed. His body hadn't lifted in a kneeling position by itself; instead, two hands were placed on his face, holding him upright. Everywhere he looked, he was surrounded by a thick veil of gold magic, and yet, the woman standing before him was just as noticeable.

"Mom?" he asked in a daze, not grasping what he was seeing. His mind was still sluggish as he stared up at her in reverence. She was beautiful, simply stunning. She seemed to radiate a blinding white light that blurred her facial features into a vague glow. The only thing recognizable was the liquid-clear green eyes and the long red hair. Izar would go as far and say she was an angel. His angel. But he didn't deserve to be touched by an angel; he would undoubtedly tarnish something of such purity.

She smiled, tightening her hold on his face as he continued to stare numbly. Her touch was so warm and it spread around him as if it were coddling him. Was this a mother's embrace? A real mother's embrace?

Izar's lips trembled as he gave a choked sob. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, he balked at the idea of showing such raw emotion—such weak emotion. But he couldn't control himself or his actions. He was putty in her hands, such beautiful hands. It might have been heaven. Though, it was such a laughable notion.

There was a part of him that was painfully aware of his current position and situation, but the other part of him wanted to enjoy this obliviousness.

Her thumb stroked his cheek and his lashes closed just briefly but opened a moment later when he felt her forehead touch his. He stared up at her in child-like wonder, observing her as she closed her eyes and inhaled his hair. "I always wished things could have turned out like this," she whispered softly. "With me holding you… but life is cruel."

"Cruel…" Izar repeated, trying to sharpen his mind. "Always cruel."

She issued a breathy chuckle, understanding his state of confusion. Her nails softly stroked his cheeks, sending pleasant chills down Izar's spine. "You're so beautiful, Izar," she praised softly. "I regret many things, but always remember I never regretted bringing you into this world. I only regretted how it was done."

He closed his eyes, overwhelmed with the warmth she was omitting. Nevertheless, it didn't last long. His mind suddenly churned, digging up his quick thinking and mental intelligence. Grudgingly, he began to understand their current position. How had she stepped into the wards with him? Where was Dumbledore? Why wasn't he stopping Lily? And Voldemort? Both Lords were nearby, he could feel their auras, but they weren't doing anything.

And then there was Lily… he finally understood why he felt so warm and why there was a light surrounding her. She was sacrificing herself for him, a mother's sacrifice.

Opening his eyes, he assessed the bright glow around her and was finally capable of spying the magical traces buried between the multiple layers. There was nothing more powerful and purer than a mother's sacrifice. Izar wasn't used to experiencing Light Magic, but he was drowning in it now. This sacrifice Lily was giving could undue any curse, any charm, and it could put a stop to anything in the path of the child. There was only one stipulation; the mother had to give her life for her son.

He didn't know why he felt a sharp pang of grief overcome him. But he didn't push it away as he sat up straighter, curling his hands around her weakening arms and supporting her weight. By now, Hogwarts' wards were diverting away from him and eating away at Lily. He could see the minuscule black, rune-like magic leaving him and curling around her. She was trying to remain standing, but Izar could feel her body begin to tremble.

Izar gave an experimental tug at Dumbledore's ritual, hoping to be able to smother it with his magic-sensitivity, but it only buried deeper inside Lily. The wards were hungry and they would be getting a meal as promised.

She pulled her forehead away from his and stared tiredly down at him. Already, he could see her body begin to fade. She wasn't fighting the ritual like Izar had.

His back stiffened when she leaned down and kissed the corner of his mouth. Her exhales were coming out in small tremors, proof of her body shutting down. "Promise me, Izar…" she began hoarsely. "Please, put my soul to rest."

His curled fingers tightened around her small arms and he met her desperate stare head on. She didn't think he would even consider her request, he knew. Like any other human, she was frightened of death. Yet, there was a hint of peace on her face at the prospect of finally being whole again. She only asked Izar to release her soul from the wards. And with his magic-sensitivity, he was confident he could tear down the wards and release her with it.

"I will," he vowed gently. What else was there to say when he was staring at the woman who sacrificed her entire soul for him? One half of her soul was sent inside the Veil to defend him against Cygnus and the other was given freely to free him from Dumbledore's ritual. "I hope…" he trailed off when the light and warmth began to fade quickly. "I hope you know you can finally rest in peace. Mother. You have redeemed yourself."

She smiled brightly, reaching out to brush a stray curl from his face. He prepared himself for her touch, realizing he was welcoming it, but her fingers never made contact with him. She had vanished, taking the warmth with her.

And just as quickly, reality hit him hard.

A cold hand grabbed his neck, pulling him back into an even colder environment. He shivered, though not from the cold, and landed in the hard snow. Just as his back made contact, a scream of denial pierced the battle-heavy atmosphere. He turned his cheek into the snow, staring at James Potter from the other side of the wards. The raw emotion of sorrow and grief was oddly familiar to Izar, and he realized he had experienced it when Sirius had died. And even now…

Crimson eyes invaded Izar's vision, crowding him and standing over him protectively. Though, the fingers fisting his robes were anything but protective. The Dark Lord's expression was tightly closed but the man's aura was in disarray. "Can you take down the wards?" the man demanded sharply.

Izar blinked, dizzy. "Just give me a few minutes and they'll be down."

Voldemort hissed. "We don't have a few minutes." The Dark Lord then stood up sharply, pushing Izar aside with his foot.

Izar rolled a few feet away, growing angry and frustrated at Voldemort's actions. Just as he was about to retort about the man's lack of decency, the snow exploded where Izar was once laying, He started, snapping his neck around and observing Dumbledore from the other side of the wards. The old bloody fool was approaching the wards from the other side, attacking both Voldemort and Izar with ferocity. He was playing unfair. Voldemort's spells couldn't get past the tweaked wards, but Dumbledore was free to attack, forcing Voldemort on the defensive.

Izar clutched a handful of snow with his leather gloves and closed his eyes. Ever since he found out who Lily Potter was and what she sacrificed for him, Izar had conveniently pushed her from his thoughts and mind. He never let himself think too long on her and he had to do the same now. Now certainly wasn't the time to mourn the woman who created a Horcrux for his protection and then proceed to live an emotionless life before sacrificing herself for him once again.

At any rate, he promised her he would put her soul to rest. The only way to do that would be to destroy the wards around Hogwarts in whole. After this battle, after things settled down, he would think long and hard on Lily Potter, his mother.

He pushed himself off of the ground and sprinted alongside the ward barrier. There was still lightning veining the dome of wards, looking peculiarly striking in contrast to the falling snow, but it had dulled as soon as Lily was absorbed.

Running his fingers along the wards, Izar focused on the magic thrumming beneath his touch. He was familiar with it, just as it was familiar with him. It would be incredibly easy to tear down the whole blanket of wards now that he had almost become a part of them. The only problem? Having enough focus to pull them apart with Dumbledore on his bloody tail.

The Black heir surveyed the old wizard from the corner of his eye as the Light Lord kept up his pace with the aid of magic. Voldemort followed with just as much vigor, refusing to be outdone by an old man.

"You're fucking persistent, I'll give you that," Izar growled, planting his foot in the snow and pivoting around to face the wards. He slammed his hands on the wards, causing a deep resonance to sound across the snowy grounds.

He met Dumbledore's eyes through the gold veil, never hating a man as much as he did currently. With concentrated determination, he pulled at the magic from around the wards, making it travel through his body. Again, he was assaulted with the whispers of the past and the tantalizing pull of the magic as it raced through him. But this time, he was in control of it. Behind him, he could hear the Hogwarts' glass and windows shatter as he pulled the wards from their ancient roots.

As soon as Dumbledore raised his wand, Izar pulled his hands away from the wards just barely—shuddering as Hogwarts' magic roared through him. "For Lily," Izar whispered.

Dumbledore threw an inferno in his direction, one large enough to consume Izar whole. But as soon as it left the man's wand, Izar slammed his hands back against the barrier, appearing as if he were pushing through the gold barrier. And as his hands broke through the solid wall of magic, he released the built-up magic flowing through him and destroyed the outer-most wards.

The excessive amount of magic caused a force-like eruption. While Izar was directing the broken wards in Dumbledore's direction, the force was so great that it backfired at him.

He was lifted off his feet and sent flying. Izar clenched his lips together before he gave a delighted laugh, not even stopping as he was deposited harshly onto the ground. He spread his arms out around his body, making tracks in the snow beneath him. Odd… he never had made a snow angel before. It seemed like an appropriate time to make one, considering he had just torn down the oldest, most powerful set of wards in Great Britain.

Izar leaned his head into the snow, ignoring the eerie quiet that reverberated across the grounds. The army was flabbergasted at what had just happened, Izar knew. Though, hopefully they were impressed, because he was even impressed with himself. Sadly, it didn't take long for the fighting to continue among the Death Eaters and the Ministry, for he heard magic and curses being passed back and forth between the crowds a few yards away from his current position.

Chaos would erupt shortly. The two groups were still in quiet surprise over Hogwarts' lack of magic. Soon, the students and the professors would either herd together inside the castle, escape, or join the fray.

Until that time…

Izar kicked his arms and legs out, creating a snow angel beneath him. His green eyes stared at the sky above him, observing the snowflakes as they slowly drifted into focus. Without the soft and yellowed glow from Hogwarts, the only thing left to light the grounds was the half moon and the curses being released from their owners' wands. He smiled thinly, finding himself feeling rather numb despite the situation that transpired earlier.

He issued a controlled moan. Lily

"What… are you doing?"

Izar gave the towering man a look of disdain. "Exactly what it looks like, My Lord."

Voldemort's lips thinned as he watched Izar create a deeper snow angel. "They did warn me that the Black insanity was strong within you. Observably, I hadn't given it proper consideration." A pause. "Until now."

While Voldemort was light in his mocking, Izar could see the man deeper than that. There was a knowing glint in the crimson eyes as they watched Izar in the snow. The Dark Lord believed Izar was averting his focus and attention away from reality in order to avoid thinking about his mother or his near-death experience.

Was he? Possibly… no, most certainly. He had almost been absorbed into the Hogwarts' wards. And he had all but melted into her arms like a wanton newborn searching for his mother's breast. Izar had been taken off-guard by Dumbledore. There was this nagging feeling that Izar could have prevented everything that transpired in the last few minutes. He could have prevented it, maybe, but it appeared as if Lily had known about this for quite some time. She had been waiting in the shadows until Izar had been caught inside the wards. Even she could have prevented it.

And yet, she hadn't. She chose this route. Almost if she were… as if she wanted to die for a cause she believed would put her to rest finally.

"Your army can fend for themselves for a moment," Izar grinned bitterly up at the sky. "Besides, we have other problems to deal with…"

Voldemort dropped Izar's wand and mask on his chest, obviously not batting an eyelash as he stepped in the path of one of Izar's swinging arms. "Get up," the man ordered sharply. "We have a battle to continue."

Izar gave a deep hum, swinging his head to the side and pressing his cheek into the snow. He gave the Dark Lord an intense stare, a small smirk crossing his lips. "While Scrimgeour is a tempting prospect, he will have to wait. Like I said, we have other problems to deal with." Izar sighed, sitting up from his position and examining the angel. From the corner of his eye, he watched as their other guests appear. "The French are here."

The Dark Lord turned quickly at Izar's words, squinting down at the battle. Izar followed the man's line of vision, studying the Death Eaters briefly. They were holding their own. But not for long. Another group was Apparating behind the Ministry. Combined, their numbers easily outnumbered the Death Eaters. But one aura, in particular, was what caught Izar's attention.

Voldemort abruptly crouched next to Izar, successfully averting the younger wizard's eyes away from the battle. "I want my revenge," Izar whispered ominously, daring Voldemort to disagree.

While Dumbledore was on his list of most-hated wizards, there was only one witch on that list. His eyelids grew hooded as he was brought back to the Triwizard Tournament. Airi Roux and her fiancé, the French Minister, had been killed by Voldemort in retaliation for targeting Izar during the Tournament. But the French Minister had been oblivious to Airi's actions. In fact, even Airi was clueless to what was really happening.

She claimed she was working for her father, Lord Acelin Morel. And many believed Lord Morel was the Dark Lord of France and that he targeted Izar out of his dislike for Tom Riddle. But they were all puppets to her. Everyone was a mere pawn in the game between Lord Voldemort and Lady Marjolaine, including Izar. He was nothing but a way to get at Tom Riddle, a way to insult him. And if there was one thing Izar despised, it was being controlled and manipulated.

"You have Dumbledore to deal with, wherever he is…" Izar continued. He stood carefully from his angel, stepping outside the markings. "I want her—"

His face was grabbed roughly by Voldemort before his lips were forced into a bruising kiss. The man's long fingernails ripped the skin on Izar's cheeks as soon as the man pulled away. The markings were meant to be a claim, a sense of ownership, and a painful message for Izar to keep his mind grounded and focused.

The Dark Lord turned his heel, luring Izar to follow. "You and I will be partners for this battle," the man spoke levelly. "The very first sign I see of your loss of control, we depart. We've already accomplished enough for Riddle to take over office."

"But we need to eliminate as many Ministry and Order members as possible," Izar argued sharply, needing another reason to stay and fight Marjolaine.

Voldemort turned his heel before grabbing Izar's robes and thrusting him close. "Clear your head, you foolish boy. This is not about her and your revenge. This is about our game. Yours and mine." Crimson eyes were bright as they pierced through Izar. "Undoubtedly, we need to destroy as many adversaries as we can, yes. But you will not lose sight of this goal just to extract your revenge."

It was rich hearing those words come from the Dark Lord's mouth. It was about control, right, just as the man controlled himself in the face of torture. Though, as Izar calmed down, he realized Voldemort was right. Izar's ability would be put to good use by destroying as many enemies as he could get his hands on. Maybe after killing off a good handful of wizards, he could turn his attention on Marjolaine, the woman who had manipulated both Izar and Lord Morel to the point of ludicrous.

As if sensing Izar's acceptance of his words, Voldemort smirked arrogantly.

"Smug bastard," Izar hissed, bumping the man's shoulder on his way down the hill. He pulled on the gold Death Eater mask, preparing himself to jump right into the fray. "You better keep up with me, old man. I'm less than happy trading a decent partner like Bellatrix for someone as worn as yourself."

Suddenly, the ground below Izar's feet turned to ice. His boot caught the slick element and he went down clumsily. As he sat up, dumbfounded, he watched as Voldemort passed him elegantly. Almost too elegantly. "It's you who needs to keep up, child. Look at how distasteful you look…" the man tsked at Izar before leaving him behind.

Izar scoffed.

Let the games begin.

He stood up carefully, brushing his hands down his robes. To his right, the castle caught his attention. He froze, staring at Hogwarts for a moment. The normal luminosity around the castle was absent, sending a cold and depressed appearance to settle around the structure. Only a few windows were lit, but inside, he was sure the students were too frantic to pay much attention to re-lighting the castle.

He had done that. He had stripped the powerful castle down to the bones, shedding light on its nudity. Somehow, his sense of accomplishment turned sour for reasons he'd rather not analyze.

His eyes swept upward, giving a passing thought to his mother as he watched the falling snow.

"You don't even seem to care," a voice whispered deliriously behind him.

Izar turned calmly, eyeing James Potter impassively over his shoulder. The younger wizard tightened his gloves, noticing in slight disenchantment that Potter was standing in the cusp of his snow angel. Pity, it had looked so beautiful.

"Maybe I don't," Izar responded tightly.

Silence came from Potter and Izar had faced back forward. The battle was leaning in favor of the Ministry and the Order, while the Dark Lord was lingering at the outskirts of the crowd. He was waiting for Izar, the irritated line across his forehead mere proof of his impatience.

"I loved her," the man whispered distressingly. Potter swallowed thickly, keeping his stance sturdy. "And I know she loved you. At least show a bit of remorse or gratitude that your sorry arse is still alive because of her."

Izar glanced at the man once again over his shoulder. There were no tears streaming down the man's cheeks as Izar had originally thought. Instead, Potter's nostrils were flared and his eyes were oddly bright. Even his stance was tall despite his disconsolate aura. Izar had always respected Potter. And this time was no different. Hell. Maybe that was the reason his thoughts centered on actually showing his sympathy.

The Black heir turned and began to make his way down to the battle before he found himself staying behind and mourning with Potter. "Inform me when her funeral is," he spoke to the man at his back. "That is the place where I will show my respects."

The only response Izar got was a crack of Disapparation.

Well, apparently Potter wasn't gracing anyone with his support tonight. With good reason, he supposed. A distracted mind did not benefit one's ability in battle.

With that in mind, Izar sharpened his focus back on the matter at hand.

Competing with Voldemort. And to think, the man already had a head start.


{Notes} A relatively short chapter, yes, I know, but a very difficult one for me to write. I had to end it here because continuing wouldn't flow right… plus, I needed to clear my head of this chapter. Meh. Thanks, everyone!